Kuroshitsuji Drabbles
by Anny the Kitty
Summary: Not the most idiosyncratic title, I know. To be succinct, this is just me sharing my SebaCiel (although there are other pairings, such as Ciel x Mey-Rin and Ciel x Sieglinde) obsession with the world whilst simultaneously trying to convince myself that I have some semblance of writing talent. As of chapter 10 there's probably more fluff than anyone's comfortable with here.
1. Chapter 1: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. At all.

 **Author's Note:** My first official contribution to the Kuroshitsuji fandom. Inspired by other works I've read, but hopefully original enough.

 **Warnings:** SebaCiel, shota undertones, nothing too explicit (I hope) as I'm uncomfortable writing that kind of thing. Non-chronological snippets.

 _ **Broken**_

Sebastian always breaks him. He shatters the boy with practiced ease. Tenderly ruins him beyond repair. And Ciel, he loves every second of his damnation. Until the day Sebastian decides to tenderly piece him back together…

 ** _Lie_**

''Don't you dare lie to me, filthy demon!'' the boy all but screams.

His butler's lips curl upwards in seemingly genuine amusement as he claims not to have the slightest idea what his master is talking about.

The earl's angelic features contort into a terrifying grimace of anger. The pink bow he holds twists and wrinkles as he clenches his hand into a fist around it. He considers punching the smug smirk off the demon's face but he knows it won't bring Elizabeth back.

He does anyway.

 _ **Temptation**_

Ciel is not certain why he finds comfort in tempting a demon. He doesn't know why his heartbeat accelerates—not in fear, but in anticipation— each time he spots that feral glint of garnet.

He thinks the reason might be similar to the one that drove the demon to him in the first place.

 _ **Blood**_

Sebastian likes blood, likes watching it seep out of his victims. He likes seeing the life seep out of them along with it; he enjoys carnage as much as any demon should.

So he is understandably surprised the day when the sight of blood no longer delights him. Then again, he'd never seem _his_ young master bleed before.

 _ **Innocence**_

The boy has killed; he has given orders that would have landed his soul in the deepest, darkest, most terrifying depths of hell, were it not promised to Sebastian. And yet, he can be so delightfully innocent at times, Sebastian muses, as he dutifully watches his master's skin grow redder and redder.

Perhaps he should blow the candles out during their nighttime activities in the future.

 _ **Selfishness**_

Ciel Phantomhive doesn't like sharing his pawns.

''Sebastian,'' he says, his voice bearing every bit of the graceful haughtiness his upbringing had instilled him with, '' the next time you see fit to engage in such _improper_ behavior I shan't be so lenient.''

The butler, usually the perfect picture of propriety, stands kneeled before his master, tendrils of blood coating his jaw thoroughly. The boy had ordered him to drink holy water.

''Yes, my lord,'' he replies, a violent spurt of blood punctuating his acquiescence.

Ciel Phantomhive doesn't like sharing his pawns, and he will make sure that Sebastian does not forget that any time soon.

 _ **Pleasure**_

Not many things bring pleasure to one who has felt all the kinds of pain this world has to offer. Ciel Phantomhive is no exception.

 _ **Warmth**_

The boy is cold; even with extra layers covering his petite body the winter chill has managed to ooze deep into his core. So when the butler enters and places the candelabra on the night stand he doesn't say anything, no scathing remarks escape from his clacking teeth and no condescending huffs leave his shivering lips. He simply waits patiently for the older man to pull him into his embrace.

''It is very cold,'' he murmurs, snuggling deeper into the butler's warmth. ''And you're very warm.'' He very thoroughly explains.

''Indeed my little lord,'' the butler complies. A smile—an adoring one, some would have said—comes to rest on his lips as his little charge pulls him under the covers. The boy's hands clench tighter around his waist and he nuzzles his face into the butler's crisp white button down.

Warmth envelopes them both.

 _ **Kiss**_

He is forced to observe the pathetic display. He, ever the dutiful servant, is obligated to stand by his master's side and watch as the wretched girl throws herself on him, pressing her repulsive mouth on his, tainting his master with her essence.

He is forced to remain silent as the earl staggers back, visibly shocked at having been attacked by that graceless swine of a lady, puts a contemplative hand on his mouth and then serenely seats himself, as if he hadn't just now been robbed of his first kiss.

 _ **Pity**_

He might have pitied Lady Elizabeth, he might have shown her mercy, and he might have even allowed her to grow older by his young master's side had she not uttered those blasted words.

''He'll never be yours.'' She'd said. The demon could have told her that the boy already _was_ his; that he already had his soul, but he chose to end her pathetic life instead.

 _ **Ending**_

Ciel's life is no fairy-tale, and even if some may find a moral buried beneath the ashen remains of the sins he's committed, he knows it won't have a happy ending.

 _ **Death**_

He doesn't fear death. It's rather difficult to fear something that has walked by your side for the past three years, he concludes.

 _ **Life**_

Life scares him, the fact that he wants to live petrifies him, the fact that he wants to live because of his death, with it; that makes his heart wrench and his stomach knot.

 _ **Care**_

His master has fallen ill, as a demon that shouldn't concern him. But, what kind of butler would he be if he couldn't even care for his fever-ridden young master?

 _ **Name**_

Sebastian so enjoys hearing his young master call his name, he likes hearing it spoken clearly, followed by whatever pitiless order his merciless contractor wishes to give, he likes hearing it shouted with annoyance each time his young lord has lost one of their games, but, most of all, Sebastian likes hearing his name fall from his master's kiss-swollen lips, likes hearing it moaned, repeatedly, like an unholy litany, broken and panted as the little boy begs for release.

 _ **Safety**_

It's not a word he should associate with a demon, Ciel knows that. But, on the rare nights he lets Sebastian stay by his side, that is all he feels, that and… something he'd rather not address.

 _ **Tears**_

''Don't touch me,'' his master shouts. His bony hands furiously swipe at his tear-stained eyes.

''Young master…'' the butler tries, at a loss for the first time in quite a while.

The boy has never cried in front of him before.

 _ **Mark**_

Ciel is claimed, owned. He is little more than a belonging. The violet seal that mars his eye is permanent proof of that, and that is why he shatters the mirror in his bedchamber in a fit of rage. Because, if he can't regain what he has lost he can, at least, pretend to still have it.


	2. Chapter 2: Ciel x Mey-Rin

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

 **Author's Note:** Silly, short Mey-Rin x Ciel drabble that I'm posting an hour after the first one because it was irking me that I wrote drabbles (plural) and had only one chapter. Yeah, I'm mildly OCD like that.

Inspired by my own newly-found (platonic) fascination with my chemistry teacher's chest.

 **Warnings:** Silliness? A Victorian era teenager having less-than-chaste thoughts?

 **Curiosity**

Ciel had been feeling the urge to fidget for the past quarter of an hour. Mey-Rin had been dusting his study for the past quarter of an hour. Two unrelated facts, at first glance, but they shared one common link: Lady Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford. Lizzie had swung by earlier that day and had been tenacious in her demands that Mey-Rin wear the cute ensemble she had brought for the maid.

An ensemble the maid had forgotten to change out of. An ensemble that made Ciel worry that his cousin might be losing her mind. An ensemble that accentuated certain parts of Mey-Rin's anatomy that Ciel couldn't help but want to touch. Certain round, soft, and very female parts of her anatomy. It was mostly childish curiosity on his part. Mostly.

Ciel didn't know how much longer he could endure, if he could only loosen his collar a little bit, perhaps this uncomfortable heat would go away, if only—no, he was an earl, there were things he simply wouldn't do. But, even he will admit that Mey-Rin could have chosen a better time to try reaching the higher part of the bookshelf, his eyes were once again drawn to the area below Mey-Rin's neck and he was captivated by the rhythmic up and down, up and down, up and down...

Gah! This was becoming true torture for the young earl. He didn't even know how he had ended up standing less than 3 feet away from Mey-Rin who had, at some point, stopped dusting in favor of paying attention to the little boy standing in front of her with the most curious expression painted on his features.

''Yes, young master, is there something—''

Ciel reached upwards, his right hand closed around a soft mound of flesh. His first thought was that it wasn't as soft as it looked, but somehow he couldn't seem to be able to _stop_ squeezing it.

Mey-Rin's cry of distress echoed through the manor walls, the gardens, and the woods. Some say that even Queen Victoria heard a faint sound.


	3. Chapter 3: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** *sigh* This again?

 **Author's Note:** More SebaCiel... Also, I wasn't in the most lucid state of mind while proofreading this so if anyone sees any mistakes please inform me. Some general feedback would be nice too, just so I know I'm not a terrible writer.

 **Warnings:** Female Ciel, suggestive situations. Mildly OOC, depending on your personal interpretation of the characters. Abuse of fine crockery.

 **Displeased Wrath**

Sebastian could always sense when his mistress was displeased, mainly with him. Yet today he can't seem to grasp why his mistress is so displeased for he has done nothing worthy of eliciting such a reaction. Nothing he can recall anyway, but he has a feeling that the crockery currently being thrown at him would beg to differ.

''Young mistress, that is your _great-grandmother's_ most _cherished_ set of ornamental plates, whatever has possessed you to abuse it in such a _dreadful_ manner?'' He inquires, dodging another soup bowl.

''You _filthy_ vermin,'' another plate is thrown at him and he finds himself suddenly extremely grateful for his mistress's poor aim, ''you loathsome _being_ ,'' he barely misses being hit by a colander, which he is surprised his lady can manage to lift high enough to throw, ''you utter _abomination_ of a creature,'' he is now rather astounded that his lady has not run out of kitchenware to hit him with and makes a swift decision to put it on the higher shelves in the future.

''My lady, I _must_ insist that your explain what has brought on this bout of hysteria, the servants will be rather shocked to find the kitchen in such a state and I daresay my lifeless body covered in bone china will only _add_ to the horror!'' He spits out, finally losing his patience and restraining her.

''Let me go you utterly useless im—'' She shrieks, all the while pounding on his chest as hard as she can muster.

''Yes, you've made your less-than-stellar opinion of my intelligence quite obvious, my lady, pardon me if I no longer see the need to hear it.'' He interrupts.

''Put me down Sebastian,'' she tries again, somewhat less hostile this time.

''No, not until you explain your unladylike burst of anger, and you would do well to provide a _satisfactory_ explanation, or I shan't allow you to escape my hold.'' The demon proclaims.

''Very well then, demon, I shall grace you with the knowledge of what _particular_ foolishness of yours has displeased me.'' She declares, but even as the demon's eyes bear into the depths of her being, she doesn't let another sound escape her.

''I am _waiting_ , young mistress.''

''You—''

She stops.

She trips over her words, timid all of a sudden.

She speaks again.

''You, I heard you and Grell talking the other day,'' she says, ''you told her—and I quote 'I much prefer fiery redheads to pale-skinned brunettes' I take personal _offense_ in that statement and as your mistress it is my _right_ to punish you as I see fit.''

The demon grins, incredulous. ''Is 'I take personal offense in that statement' your way of implying you are _jealous_ , my lady?'' He inquires. ''Because if so,'' he adds, ''I must remind you that it was _your_ cinematic record that red-haired monstrosity was threatening to destroy if I did not collaborate. ''

''Mister Spears would have had it under control in a matter of moments, it was unnecessary for you to humor that _idiotic_ woman, she even attempted to kiss you!'' Ciel retorts, visibly vexed.

''My, my it appears my mistress is much more _sensitive_ than she'd have others believe, assaulting me with crockery for saving her life is what she considers to be 'fit punishment'? How very peculiar indeed.'' The demon states in mock astonishment. He lifts her chin, gently placing two fingers underneath, forcing her to look at him, an action she has been obstinately avoiding.

''It was hardly the type of 'assault' you could not endure.'' His lady says, condescendingly sneering at him.

''Be that as it may, it was rather _troublesome_ of you to put me through all that, I fear I must require proper compensation for my troubles.'' Sebastian settles, pressing his mouth on Ciel's, claiming his reward for humoring his troublesome mistress's every single whim.

She struggles at first, but when the butler's skillful tongue enters her mouth she relents, allowing him to do as he pleases. She is abruptly placed atop the kitchen counter by the butler who pushes her back flat against the counter-top, permitting himself more than his fair share of 'compensation'.

''I believe that is enough of a reward for your _presumed_ troubles,'' Ciel declares, her breathless state somewhat diminishing the haughtiness of the statement.

''Whatever my mistress deems sufficient is more than enough for me, but, as you don't seem quite averse to my attentions I simply must make sure that you are thoroughly pleased. It is a butler's duty.'' He states, shamelessly grinning, as his hands make their way higher along Ciel's stockings.

''Such a self-serving form of servitude,'' Ciel mocks.

''It may be so, but I have yet to hear complaints falling from those plump lips of yours, _my lady_.''

She doesn't answer him, he wonders, for a second, if she's too flustered to do so and spares her face and inquisitive glance.

''I'm not complaining, _demon_ , '' she enunciates, ''find something more interesting to occupy my _plump_ lips with, would you?''

She smirks.

He complies.

Baldroy wonders why the counter-top feels so _sticky_ when he enters the kitchen to prepare supper.


	4. Chapter 4: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, I just like to play with it.

 **Author's Note:** The idea that losing his humanity is what breaks Ciel is an interesting one to play with. I don't think this does it justice but I don't currently have the stomach to write anything more... descriptive, shall we say.

 **Warnings:** Demon Ciel. Blood, a lot of it (as the title suggests). Weird allusions to cannibalism? And coupling? Still, I don't think it warrants an M rating.

 **Blood**

''Bleed for me.'' Sebastian croons; his voice is soft and entrancing. ''Please?'' He adds, and Ciel thinks he can almost, almost... but no. It is but a hushed murmur, but it's enough.

The boy is all too eager to comply.

He lets the demon feast on his blood, the pain registers, faintly, but he can still feel it. That makes him glad, it tells him that remnants of his humanity, of what he was _before_ , still exist somewhere deep within. Thus, when Sebastian's sharp fangs withdraw the pang of sadness is expected, unwelcomed, but expected nonetheless.

Then, the former-butler's bloodied lips find their way onto his own and for some unfathomable reason the young demonling isn't bothered by the putrid scent or the cold, bitter, metallic taste of his own blood. Rather, he welcomes it, just like he has done with each previous torment. Sebastian, at least, he bitterly muses, is kind enough to ask for permission beforehand.

''Young master,'' the older demon speaks, the syllables whispered sweetly, softly, _endearingly_ even, against the boy's flesh. ''You are truly… exquisite.''

Not the words the child wishes to hear, not nearly as saccharine, not nearly as astringent either. But now, in this realm, as their limbs tangle together, as they melt into one another, both covered in his blood, in the half-congealed bits and pieces of _himself,_ they resemble those he longs for more than anything else. _Now,_ they are more than sufficient. He will never ask for more, but he hopes someday Sebastian will give it to him anyway.

Until then he is all too eager to repay him, anyway he can; he's always owned Sebastian everything and for that he will give anything in return, for all eternity. It is only fair.


	5. Chapter 5: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I wouldn't write a parody of it if I owned it, would I? (I might have, actually. :D)

 **Author's Note:** This is not meant to offend anyone, whether you ship SebaCiel or not; I personally do but if it's not your cup of tea I'm not bothered in the least. Also, I feel like I'm really pushing that T rating with this one.

On a side note, if you're looking for something longer (and with actual plot) I highly recommend Maiden of the Moon's ''Episode Zero''.

 **Warnings:** Profanity, sarcasm, references to sexual acts and all the other things you might normally find in a parody piece.

 **SebaCiel Parody**

It started somewhat like this: after their usual bout of double entendre-laced sparring over one triviality or another (which, as we all know by now, was simply foreplay) Sebastian found himself suddenly completely incapable of controlling his urges and was overcome with desire caused by the scent of Ciel's utterly fuckable soul. So he stopped perfectly performing his butlerly duties and started making advances (of the sexual kind, in case you were confused) on our lovely pubescent earl.

Now, before you start screaming about pedophilia and consent or taking out the pitchforks you must realize that it wasn't Ciel's body that attracted the demon butler, rather it was the earl's nature, the core of his very being. Or, to put it plainly, Sebastian had a thing for jerks in shorts that periodically tossed cake on his face. Or perhaps a Food Play kink, depending on your perspective.

At first, Ciel, simply because he enjoyed making his butler work for it, tried to resist the other's ministrations. But, in accordance with his ''submissive poodle'' theme, he would soon give in and start senselessly moaning his butler's name. Unholy litanies of _more_ , _harder_ , _faster or I swear you're never putting another finger on_ (or in) _me again_ , would fall from his lips as he succumbed to the inconceivable pleasure only Sebastian was capable of bringing him.

Sebastian on the other hand continued mercilessly teasing his master; after all, if he couldn't control himself even if his pants felt painfully tight at present and he was nearly desperate to taste the young boy what kind of butler would he be? Aesthetics and such were terribly important, you see.

After it all ended they happily cuddled for no foreseeable reason other than the fangirls' desire to have them love each other even though one of them is a mentally scarred child and the other is a surprisingly conscientious demon from the depths of Hell. Anyway, they lived happily ever after because Sebastian didn't eat Ciel, (not literally anyway) and they loved each other for all eternity.

And did I mention the sex? Because they had lots of that.

 **The end**


	6. Chapter 6: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Seeing as I'm not Yana Toboso...

 **Author's Note:** Super short, I honestly think this idea deserves a multi-chapter fic of its own but... for now this will have to suffice.

 **Warnings:** Nothing I can think of, for once. Oh, right, there's the implied character death. *apologetically rubs head* Heh, sorry.

 **Now and Then**

Now he stands, tall and proud as ever. Now he looks at the demon and he sees not the beast he grew to fear over the years. He listens to the echo of memories reverberating through the back of his mind and he thinks of it, of the time when he used to fear Sebastian.

Then, then he trembled, blinded by the darkness. Then he searched the room for the faintest glimmer of light, for his way out of the nightmare. The beast haunted his dreams, plaguing him with fear, biting his time until the day came to bring about his master's imminent demise.

Now Ciel looks at him, at _Sebastian_ (his Sebastian, dark and cruel and deadly and _his_ , his perfect damnation) and it doesn't even cross his mind to feel afraid. Now he leans forward, parting his lips and inviting the demon to corrupt him one last time.


	7. Chapter 7: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I dooooo nooooot owwwwwwn iiiiiiiiiit.

 **Author's Note:** I decided that some silly fluff (and genderswap) was in order. Also, my brain refuses to function today, _please_ tell me if you see any mistakes.

 **Warnings:** Fem!Ciel, which I know isn't everybody's favorite thing but writing the really silly, really fluffy fluff feels easier with female Ciel (thank you years of gender stereotyping, thank you). Fluff, as previously stated. _Mildly_ suggestive stuff.

 **Cat**

What Ciel Phantomhive wanted, Ciel Phantomhive got, and no one dared impede her; those who did rarely lived to tell the tale. And yet, as she stood by her own mansion's entrance, tapping her foot impatiently against the cobblestone path, she became acutely aware of the fact that she was currently not getting what she wanted.

''Sebastian, how much longer do you intend to keep this up, it is becoming rather _intolerable_ ,'' she said, emphasizing the final word as if she wished it would come alive and choke him to death. Her valiant effort proved futile nonetheless as her, ever dutiful, butler was currently standing several feet away from hearing distance and, if that hadn't been enough, he was also much too preoccupied by the fluff-ball stretching indolently in his lap to pay her any mind.

Not getting what she wanted at all…

''Sebastian,'' she repeated, much more agitated, ''for the love of whatever unholy being you hold sacred, would you relieve yourself of that creature?'' She did not add, ''lest I let Grell have his way with your corpse after I'm finished with you.'' She did feel extremely tempted to, though.

''Why, young mistress, it utterly baffles me how you could be impervious to this marvelous being's charm, look at its fur, so soft, so—''

''—so magnificently brilliant, dark as the blackest night,'' Ciel interrupted, glaring at him, ''I've heard it all before, Sebastian, I'd dress myself in a cat costume and let you pet me, if only it guaranteed the end of this ridiculous fixation.''

Something ominous crept up in the butler's gaze and, for a second, Ciel could have sworn she saw a flash of crimson. ''Would you now, young mistress?'' He questioned. The moment was gone and her butler was back to his moronically feline-obsessed self.

''Would I what, Sebastian?'' Ciel demanded, thoroughly out of even the tiniest sliver of patience by now.

''Would you indulge me by abiding to your earlier statement, my lady?''

Ciel looked at him, dumbstruck, and then it dawned on her what exactly her butler had asked of her and she went pallid. ''You—you,'' she stammered, ''you want me to dress up as a cat for you?'' She inquired, seemingly appalled at the very words leaving her mouth.

''If you would be so kind,'' he replied, ''I would of course, refrain from further feline related activities in the future, thus keeping up my end of the agreement.'' He added as he gave one last pat to the kitten perched on his lap before letting her go.

''Why would I ever agree to such scandalous demands?'' Ciel huffed, indignant.

''Pardon my bluntness, my lady, but I find it a fair price to pay so that your desires be fulfilled.''

Somewhat less irritated now that she had Sebastian's full attention, she gave the idea some serious thought. She supposed it truly was a small price to pay, assuming the demon would keep his word.

''Very well then,'' she spoke, ''Sebastian, this is an order: In respect to our agreement you are to never again bring those foul creatures anywhere near my person or property and in exchange I'll indulge your absurd request.''

The demon smirked: ''Yes, my lady.''

* * *

''Nina, what the devil is this?'' Ciel demanded, furious.

''You requested a cat costume, did you not, my lady,'' the eccentric fool standing before her responded.

''Yes, Nina, I requested a cat costume. I _distinctly_ remember asking you to make it as modest as possible, this is… this is…''

Ciel stared at the attire laid out before her and for the first time in the thirteen something years of her existence, words failed her. Her eyes widened as she took in the deep blue, black-spotted, cat-ear headband, the high-heeled, knee-length furry boots and matching gloves, the thigh-length stockings and what only the most depraved human would describe as a dress with and an attachable tail protruding from its folds; the dress was so short it was truly obscene.

''Have you gone mad Miss Hopkins?!'' Ciel shouted, the minute the ability to articulate returned to her. ''This, this is abominable and utterly salacious, if Sebastian sees me in this he'll…'' she stopped, a faint blush crept up her cheeks, ''I'd rather not even _think_ about what he'd do.''

''That butler of yours? Did you lose a bet, my lady?'' Nina chuckled.

''…'' Ciel didn't grace her with a retort, but unfortunately her silence told a lot more than mere words ever could.

''Come now, my lady, I assure you there's nothing to fear, he is your butler, is he not?''

Ciel stared at her, she _theoretically_ was right after all, Sebastian was her butler, she could compel him do as she chose if worst came to worst. Resigned, she let out a sigh, ''Fine, thank you, Nina, you may leave now.''

* * *

After some struggling with laces and buttons and zippers, lady Phantomhive was finally ready to face her butler. Something told her that it would take quite awhile for her dignity to properly recover after this. She banished her concerns, a deal was a deal and she'd stay true to her word, as befitting of the Phantomhive heiress. She filled her lungs with air as she called out for her butler.

Said butler immediately emerged before her eyes.

''Happy now, stupid demon?!''She asked, utterly agitated, her hands straining and pulling at the scant fabric in a futile attempt to preserve some modicum of her modesty.

''…''

''Sebastian, are you… blushing?''

''Oh for—first you trick me into wearing this blasted thing, now you _blush_ because of it?''

''A _hem_ —pardon me, my lady but you look positively adorable, such a cute little kitten you make.'' The unusually flustered butler stated.

That was the moment Ciel decided she could at least get some entertainment out of this. ''Meow, meow, play with me, meow.'' She beckoned, teasingly reaching out to rub her cheek against her butler's chest.

'' Sebastian…'' Ciel questioned, curiously looking up at the uncharacteristically quiet butler when she felt him stiffen against her. ''Sebastian, why is your nose bleeding?! I was only teasing, you can't—don't faint you fool!''

''Unbelievable! The man has no problem with whips and clamps yet, bring a pair of cat ears into the bedroom and he passes out.'' She exclaimed, giving a small huff of indignation in emphasis.


	8. Chapter 8: Ciel x Sieglinde

**Disclaimer:** Kuroshitsuji is not mine; however, if anyone knows where I can get my own Sieglinde...

 **Author's Note:** There's this trope I've been meaning to play around with for awhile and Ciel x Sieglinde is the perfect pairing for it. I recommend that you don't take this too seriously.

 **Warnings:** You'll see... ;)

 **Summary:** What happens in Germany stays in Germany; luckily for a certain blue-eyed earl contracted demons aren't fond of idle chatter.

 **A Childish Game**

''A-ah Ciel, oh my—ah, ah—stop it, please! I, I can't take much more. '' The bed rattled, the frame shook, and the raven-haired children atop it writhed and panted. All the while, hidden from sight, an amused butler watched the display unfold. Who'd have thought his young master could be so very _fervent_?

Sieglinde's hands clutched the duvet in a futile attempt to ground herself into the reality she was slowly slipping out of. Ciel's adroit hands were moving, touching, caressing and it all felt so very _good,_ but her already-overstimulated body couldn't take much more.

''Why should I?'' The boy-child questioned with a wry smirk. ''I rather like having you at my mercy like this, Miss Sullivan.'' Sebastian felt what he could only describe as something akin to paternal pride swell in his chest at that, he'd taught the boy so well!

''W-well,'' the girl-child answered, voice trembling from Ciel's incessant attentions and filled with mischievous mirth. ''It's bad form to deny a lady, or so your butler tells me. Besides—'' Her countenance changed, morphing into a smirk to match Ciel's own. Her legs wrapped tightly below his waist, her arms clutched at his shirt, she flipped them both over, landing on top of a bemused earl. ''—I'm not enough of one to let you have your way with me without protesting.''

''Is that so? What are you going to do about it, then?'' Ciel—having quickly regained his composure—asked.

''Oh, I think I'll just have to pay you back in kind; now, why don't you let me hear what that voice of yours sounds like when I touch here?'' Her hands drifted lower, and she—having found the boy's weak spot—started her merciless ministrations.

It was Ciel's turn to plead for a moment of respite. ''Ah-hah, oh Sieglinde, no, d-don't –not there!'' On the other hand, Sebastian, compelled to unending honesty as he was, could say with no doubt that his young master's _technique_ required some improvement. Allowing himself to be so easily subdued…

''Stop tickling me you fool! It's torment, I can't bear it anymore!'' The defeated earl exclaimed.

''Do you forfeit then, Phantomhive?'' Sieglinde— _fitting, that name of hers, even if it wasn't exactly ''gentle'' per se_ , Sebastian mused—asked, eyes alight with her reaped victory.

''Y-yes, fine, you win!'' _Truly unseemly of a gentleman, young master, to lose so gracelessly._ Were he not currently intruding upon his master's privacy—a privacy the child had made no move to assure, the door was _open_ for Satan's sake—Sebastian would have voiced his opinions aloud. At present he was inclined not to, however. Who knew what the boy would order him to do in the wake of his wounded pride.

''Told you I could win in a game of physicality. A tickle fight was an odd choice, though. Or were you simply looking for an excuse to throw me on a bed?'' Sieglinde, still sparkling with amusement, inquired, giving the young earl a teasing look.

Ciel promptly turned beet red. ''N-no, of course not! I was simply curious if you could feel anything underneath all those heavy layers of clothing.''

''Ah, so that was why… Still, we're already on a bed, we could—''

''No!''

Times like these reminded Sebastian that his contractor was still well and truly a child. He stifled a chuckle and quietly walked away, leaving the uncanny couple to resume their good nurtured bickering.

 **...**

As you've all probably realized by now the trope I was referring to was _''Innocent Innuendo''_. I'm not sure how well I managed to pull it off, (The title was a dead giveaway wasn't it?) but I hope someone enjoyed this nonetheless.

And, in case you don't know, Sieglinde's name means ''Gentle Victory'', which takes some pretty gruesome connotations in the cannon material.


	9. Chapter 9: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** What is this ownership you speak of?

 **Author's Note:** More of those beautiful non-chronological snippets, simply because I couldn't get this to work as a ficlet. I was too fond of the initial idea to let it go to waste, though.

 **Warnings:** Non-chronological, Sebastian in love. Tangentially inspired by _KittyGetsLoose's_ **''Devilish Impulses''.** (The only Kuroshitsuji fic that has ever made me cry, and I don't mean shed a tear or two, I mean _cry._ )

 **Easy**

It could be easy, he decided. It would be easy; he could make it so without much difficulty. He could, he could pretend and he could disguise and he could deceive, himself most of all. If he couldn't what kind of butler would he be?

 _(A demon of a butler.)_

 **Prayer**

That night he found himself praying for the first time in centuries, millennia even, his human form wracked with violent, genuine sobs. And he could think of nothing else except how much he hated the child, how he wished to tear his frail limbs off, how he wished to rid himself of such a nuisance. He wished all these things, but not as much as he wished he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't love, not this child.

 _(But he did love him, he loved him so, so much, that was the crux of the problem, wasn't it?)_

The lord rarely listened to the damned, especially those that had willingly embraced their damnation and relished in it. Sebastian's feeble prayers remained unanswered.

 _(Not that respite could be found in Heaven for a devil ensnared by sin-coated virtue.)_

 **Simplicity**

He was good at following orders; it made not much difference where they came from, whether they were his master's or those he dictated for himself. His master never asked much of him, his commandments were rather simple, as a matter of fact.

 _(It was all terribly simple. Love and hate had never been difficult, loving and hating on the other hand…)_

 **Heart**

 _Do not leave my side,_ the boy asked and the butler complied. He didn't need an order to remain by the child's side. He couldn't leave; he had worn the shackles and thrown away the key on his own volition; first for a soul, then for a body and now for a heart.

 _(Perhaps, perhaps, maybe always just for a heart.)_

 _Do not betray me,_ he uttered and Sebastian heard, and he obeyed yet another unnecessary order. He never would, pitiable pride and selfish need and begrudging but all-consuming affection would never let him.

 _(He'd never admit it, but sometimes the demon forgot what he'd been before the boy had forced his way into his heart, before he'd forcibly peeled away the charred, lifeless outer layer and claimed the rest as his own.)_

 _Do not lie to me,_ the child pleaded and the demon was, for the first time in all of his void eternity, terribly glad the boy hadn't forbidden him from lying to himself. He couldn't bear the truth, and he almost begged then, for death, for complete obliteration, for that peace that only eternal slumber could bring.

 _(But no, deep down he knew, knew that even in death his heart would belong to Ciel Phantomhive. And the child had never been generous enough to give away what was rightfully his.)_

 **Regret**

Yes, his master's orders were quite easy to obey, they all cost him very little, almost nothing.

 _(Nothing except for everything that had never been his to give, everything he'd forsaken ages ago, long before saving the child from that cage; everything he obsequiously laid at the child's feet with no regret.)_

 **Altruism**

Salvation was something he'd never wanted.

 _(Not for himself, at least.)_


	10. Chapter 10: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Twas a lovely day wherein Kuroshitsuji didn't spontaneously change ownership. (I.e it still belongs to miss Toboso.)

 **Author's Note:** I needed SebaCiel fluff, so I wrote it myself. Also, the world needs more Sieglinde, that's why I had to put her in here.

 **Warnings:** Diabetes-inducing fluff. Dialogue fic. References to Sebastian's cat *cough* _fondness._ AU, thus OOC.

 **An Eventful Anniversary**

''I can't believe you did this!''

''I'm so, so sorry—''

''I thought you loved me!''

''I do! I really do love you Sebastian.''

''How could you then? And with _Sieglinde_ too, she's my best friend Ciel!''

''Sebastian, I told you I'm sorry. Plus, _she_ forced _me_ into it, I was an unwilling participant in the act.''

''Is that why I found you comfortably asleep on top of her? Because you were so very _unwilling_ and guilt-ridden that you _cuddled_ her afterwards?''

''It was late, we were both waiting for you, but you didn't show up and you _know_ how persuasive she can be.''

''…I don't know, Ciel. I trusted you, I don't think I can do that so easily again.''

''For heaven's sake Sebastian, I'm sorry that Sieglinde and I watched American Beauty without you!''

''I'm heartbroken, you know, you can be a bit more considerate.''

''Drama queen. Sieglinde was right to bolt out of here the minute you came.''

''Don't even mention that traitor.''

''Would you stop it now? It's just a movie.''

'' _How_ dare you!''

''What, it _is_ just a movie. What's so special about it?''

''…''

''…''

''...you really don't remember?''

''…no.''

''The day we first met, you snuck into the movie theater to avoid Elizabeth.''

''Yeah, and afterwards when she found me I grabbed onto you and pretended you were my date.''

''Heh, you were quite the vigorous kisser, if I recall. That red-haired girl next to us had a nosebleed.''

''Care to get to the point, Sebastian?''

''The movie we ended up watching was American Beauty, don't you remember?''

''…oh. So that's why you always want to watch it on our anniversary.''

''Yes, _that's_ why Ciel. But you _had_ to give in to Sieglinde's wiles and watch it without me.''

''I said I was sorry, Sebastian. She said she'd never seen it before and I didn't think... We've been together for six years; my memory wasn't all that good to begin with! Plus, if it serves right now, I think you kept me appropriately _distracted_ throughout the entirety of the movie.''

''Don't look at me like that, you threw yourself at me first. _And_ you had cat ears on. Actually… I don't think you ever told me _why_ you had cat ears on.''

''Yes and that's not about to change.''

''Pretty please?''

''No.''

''It's our anniversary Ciel, how cruel can you be?''

''Tch. Alright, but you're not telling a soul.''

''Promise.''

''Not _even_ Sieglinde, Sebastian.''

''Yes, yes, now tell!''

''Okay, so you know how my aunt is a pediatrician, well she blackmail—ahem, _convinced_ me to wear a cat costume for the ill children in her ward and then the Lizzie thing happened and I didn't have time to change properly.''

''So… would you consider wearing the full costume for me?''

''Se _bas_ tian!''

''…''

''Would you stop it with the puppy-dog eyes? They're not working. Yep, totally not working… Okay fine, I'll wear it you irresistible cat fetishist!''

''Lucky me.''

'' _eep_ , Sebastian? Why are you this close?''

''What do you mean?''

''I mean your breath is tickling m—ah, don't touch _there_.''

''Where? Here?''

''Yes _there,_ there's absolutely no n-need for emphasizing s-squeezes, keep your pants on for two minutes would you?''

''I was thinking more about taking yours off. Since, you know, they're already unzipped...''

''Did you seriously just wiggle your eyebrows at me? S-stop licking my ear!''

''Aww, you were much more fun when we first met, much more _passionate_ too.''

''Sex fiend.''

''I don't remember you complaining, that first night… You were, as a matter of fact, rather adamant in your requests that I fu—''

''Don't say that! Stop it.''

''Okay.''

''… that easy?''

''Is that disappointment I hear?''

''The bedroom door is three steps away, just fuck me already!''

''Just like that first night.''

''Bastard—mmph, oh yes!''

* * *

''We didn't watch the movie in the end. Are you mad?''

''No, just sore.''

''That's your own fault.''

''...''

''Sebastian?''

''Yes?''

''I really do love you, you know, enough to wear this ridiculous, and obscenely small catsuit, even.''

''I love you too, _kitten.''_

''Sebastian!'' (Ciel _totally_ didn't hiss that while hitting Sebastian with a pillow.)

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

 _P.S:_ I don't mean to seem desperate, but some reviews would be nice. Even if you hate it. Tell me why, so that I can improve.


	11. Chapter 11: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** A girl can dream...

 **Author's Note:** Not my best work by far. This is the kind of thing I'll most likely hate myself for having written later but writing is a cathartic process for me and my day was... not so good. I'm sure the sun will shine (or rain will fall, since I'm a pluviophile) and all that but I needed to write something to purge myself of the misery that filled me today. Thankfully I have a whole weekend ahead. :)

 **Warnings:** Not the humor and innuendo-laden fluff I've been writing lately. Semi-consensual, non-descriptive intercourse between a demon and a minor.

 **Storms**

He hadn't always liked storms. There had been a time when the loud roars of lightning and thunder and the vicious howls of icy wind would have driven him to cower and clutch at his mother's skirts in fear. But that had been _before_ , when his mother had been there to run a gentle hand through his hair and tell him there was nothing to fear but that, if he liked, she could stay with him until he fell back asleep.

 _You wanted power, did you not?_

He likes storms now. It seems useless to fear them when he is forever entrapped, pinned by shadows with looming gazes and stripped bare to suit a monster's fancy. He would have pitied himself if he had the faintest memory of what pity was.

 _I gave it to you._

He likes storms because when it storms his screams tangle and melt into the thunderous noise and sometimes, if he closes his eyes tightly enough, he manages to forget. He forgets and the monster's bruising touches and sibilant moans start to resemble his mother's gentle strokes and her soft consoling murmurs. He forgets the pain, the past, the present and whatever despair the future holds. He forgets he didn't die in a rusty, bile-covered cage or atop a bloodstained altar. He forgets he wishes he had.

 _Now you shall repay me._

He likes storms because they make him forget. But he hates them too, because when they end he always remembers. All the times he painted his butler's black tailcoat in sickly (sticky) shades of white, all the times he begged the demon for _more_ , _harder_ , _faster_ and all the times he clutched at the other's sleeve and ordered him to stay, it all crashes into him at full force the minute the last echoes of the storm fade. He remembers everything, and he doesn't know for what to hate himself more.

 _With all you have._


	12. Chapter 12: CieLizzie

**Disclaimer:** Yeah 'cause I would've totally ruined poor Ciel's life like that.

 **Author's Note:** The fluff is back. I read one of those ''here's a sentence, write a fic about it'' things on tumblr and this happened.

 **Warnings:** Beware the Cielizzie fluff. So much fluff that it is bound to be OOC but I like to think that if Black Butler followed a ''and they lived happily ever after (with the demon)'' formula things like this would've happened in canon.

 **Pants** (and what happens when Ciel lacks a pair)

Elizabeth has always placed paramount importance in acting like a proper lady. She knows she should address every situation with an adequate amount of decorum. She knows that and she has always done so but she can't help but think that this is the kind of situation where exceptions can be made.

''Ciel, why aren't you wearing any pants?'' She asks, for she can honestly think of no other approach but the direct one. It's not every day you find the earl of Phantomhive standing in your hallway in his undergarments.

''Lizzie!'' the younger boy shouts, visibly startled. ''I didn't know you were home.''

''Of course I'm home Ciel, where else would I be?'' She inquires with that characteristic beaming smile of hers.

''Erm, yes well, in regards to my lack of—''

''Pants,'' she helpfully supplies.

''—clothing usually worn on one's lower body.'' Ciel adamantly corrects. ''There was… an accident of sorts, you see and your mother advised that I wait inside while Sebastian procures another pair of—''

''Pants,'' Lizzie repeats.

''—clothing usually worn on one's lower body,'' Ciel corrects anew.

''I see,'' she musingly states, ''and might I inquire as to the intricacies of that accident?''

''Well, if you recall your mother had invited Soma and I to tea. After discovering that said tea is not gravity-resistant I daresay it is never a good idea to hand Soma any hot liquid.'' Ciel recounts, irritation slowly seeping into his tone.

Elizabeth Midford has been raised to be a proper lady. And most days she is one but alas, even she can't stop the truly unladylike chuckle that escapes her pretty pink lips. ''Ciel,'' she chuckles, ''do you mean to tell me that Soma spilled hot tea on your lap?''

''…that is one way to phrase it, yes.''

''And that is why you are currently lacking pa—''

''Clothing usually worn on one's lower body, yes.''

''Oh, Ciel…'' she chides affectionately.

''Sometimes I really hate everything.'' Ciel huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

''…everything?'' Lizzie repeats, crestfallen.

''Oh no, not you Elizabeth!'' He swiftly rectifies, wildly shaking his hands. ''Everything _but_ you, I could never hate _you_!''

Did I mention that Elizabeth Midford is a proper lady? Well, picking up her cousin and twirling him around in joy as she nearly squeezes the air out of his lungs doesn't make her feel like any less of one.

''Elizabeth I'm not wearing any—''

''—clothing usually worn on one's lower body?'' Lizzie asks with a smile.

''—pants.'' Ciel replies with a blush.

''I noticed.'' She quips with a chuckle.

They both laugh until the butler emerges with a change of clothes for the young earl.

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

Okay, so I know in this would've never happened in Victorian England but I needed the hilarity to ensue somehow.

Why doesn't Sebastian salvage Ciel from the embarrassment, you ask? Because he's a sadistic bastard that likes to watch his food squirm for entertainment, I answer. Remember the snakes?


	13. Chapter 13: General

**Disclaimer:** I spent part of my day re-watching the Book of Murder OVA, do _you_ think I own it?

 **Author's Note:** The urge to write a canon-compliant story that actually feels like it could happen, something I'd actually want to read, has been gnawing at me for days, no matter how delightful fluff and silly AUs are to write. Anyway, this pathetic thing is what I came up with instead. Enjoy.

Also, since I apparently can't help wanting to share every good Black Butler story I come across (Perhaps because they're so hard to find. Silly me, thinking that every fandom would be like the Harry Potter fandom where you can find enough good reading material to last you a lifetime... how utterly naive.) I recommend **all** of _objectlesson's_ stories on AO3 especially **''Until''** and **''A Life of Near** **Misses''**.

 **Warnings:** Nothing substantial, if you've thus far willingly read the rest of what I've written.

 **Futile**

Ciel holds the leash of a hungry beast clasped tightly between pale, dainty aristocratic fingers. He knows it will ultimately fall softly with a final thud atop some blood-stained floor, he knows it won't stop Sebastian from taking all that he has left to give, all that rightfully belongs to him either way. He knows it is futile. But he is not yet ready, not yet prepared.

And so, until the day his throne crumbles to dust, he will hold onto that leash.

Once that day comes, after everything changes, after everything, forever transient and ephemeral, remains the same Ciel is no longer sitting atop a throne. It hasn't crumbled, not quite yet, but he can't sit upon it anymore. And as he patiently waits for his life to end, he thinks he should feel something, because it's the last time he'll ever get to.

Yes, he _should_ feel something, he could allow himself one last indulgence, all things considered. He could feel something. Even if it is futile. But he doesn't have a heart anymore, he was robbed of it when he reached out towards nameless shadows begging for salvation and was damned instead.

So he doesn't. Because it is futile, and he is about to die either way.

Soft lips press against his own. _The leash falls._ Two beautiful, unmarred sapphire eyes close. _The throne crumbles._ No feeling remains in the lifeless husk that mere moments ago was Ciel Phantomhive's body.

...and the world keeps spinning, and everything, forever transient and ephemeral, remains the same.


	14. Chapter 14: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Unless I get a really expensive gift in the near future...

 **Author's Note:** I finally wrote something I'm proud of that's not terrible! I was listening to _Demons_ by **Imagine Dragons** while writing this. Some lines struck me in particular: ''Look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide... Don't get too close, it's dark inside, it's where my demons hide... etc. And _somehow_ my brain made SebaCiel fluff out of that.

 **Warnings:** Fluffy, if seen under a certain light. I really don't see this as OOC because in my mind I made up a whole plot to justify the characters' behavior that I didn't write because I was in the mood for the (not-so-fluffy) fluff. However, if it strikes you as OOC on its own... Also, I'm terrible when it comes to remembering to use British spellings.

 **In the Dark**

It is a cold, bitter December night, not the anniversary of that dreadful night but unpleasant all the same. Ciel's treacherous mind wanders back to similarly cold nights spent behind cold iron bars and the soft silkiness of his duvet starts to feel more and more like the harsh bile and spittle-covered wooden floor of a rotting cage. He can't sleep.

''Sebastian,'' he hears himself murmur into the cold night. ''Come here.''

Mere moments later, the onyx-swathed form of his butler comes into sight. He can barely make out the silhouette, faintly illuminated only by the violet glow emanating from his right eye. He _knows_ Sebastian is there but he still has to consciously fight the urge to crawl out and cling to him, to demand countless reassurances that he is not back _there_ , that he can't be hurt anymore.

''Yes, my lord?'' The butler asks, in a deeper, much more feral voice than usual.

''Lie with me,'' Ciel commands.

Unlike usual, Sebastian doesn't stall, doesn't suggest a cup of honeyed warm milk as a suitable replacement to his presence, and doesn't lie stiffly above the covers. Instead, he pushes them back after deftly removing his own clothing and settles under them, pulling Ciel against his shirt-clad chest in a gesture that's almost warm, if it weren't so fiercely possessive.

''Tell me a story,'' Ciel demands, hands clutching at the other's shirt so ferociously he might just tear the cloth off.

''Oh,'' an amused sound of surprise escapes the butler. ''And what kind of story would the young master prefer?'' He inquires, rubbing soothing circles along the boy's back.

''Tell me a tale of ravenous demons and greedy humans with nothing but their soul left.''

Sebastian complies. ''Once upon a time,'' he starts, ''there was a small child who was faced with much undue suffering. He prayed to the heavens for salvation, but the lord paid him no heed. In his last moments, just before his life was ended by the mindless cruelty so ubiquitous in humans, he managed to find enough strength to save himself.''

''And then?'' Ciel prompts, comfortably nuzzling against his impending death.

''Then he met a demon, a demon so entranced by the beauty of the child's unwavering persistence, by the sheer, raw strength of his will that he formed a contract with the boy, promising him his service and unending loyalty until the child fulfilled his ultimate desire.'' Sebastian says, leaning closer to brush soft lips against Ciel's brow.

''That's… a highly sanitized version,'' Ciel remarks with a bitter laugh.

''Well, we wouldn't want to spook the young master, now would we?'' Sebastian replies with a chuckle, smoothing errant locks behind Ciel's ear.

''…It was always so dark, back then. It makes me forget sometimes—''

''No one will ever hurt you again, young master, not for as long as I am here.'' Sebastian interrupts with a harsh growl. ''I would slaughter them all over again, were it possible.''

Something, maybe the way Sebastian's gaze flashes red while he speaks the words, maybe the fact Sebastian can't lie to him either way, maybe just whatever small part of childish naivety that month didn't rob him of, makes Ciel believe Sebastian completely.

''You wouldn't have a meal if it weren't for them.'' Ciel states plainly, wistfully running a hand along Sebastian's jaw.

''True enough, but you are so much more than a simple meal, my young lord.''

''Is that so?'' Ciel questions with an impish grin. ''What am I then, _Sebastian_?''

''You are mine,'' Sebastian says, as if stating a simple fact. He presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, ''Mine to taint,'' another to the corner of Ciel's mouth, ''mine to break,'' yet another to the opposite corner, ''and mine to care for, if I so choose.'' Finally, he kisses the boy full on the mouth, feels the impossibly soft lips, and delights in the eager, albeit somewhat clumsily inexperienced, response he gets.

Just like every other touch Sebastian gives him on nights when the past refuses to stay buried beneath thick layers of maggot-infested dirt, the kiss helps him, grounds him, tells him that he still here, still alive. That—and not some base urge intensified by his pubescent mind—is why he responds eagerly, letting Sebastian thrust his tongue past his puckered lips.

They yearn for decidedly different things, the boy and the demon bound to him, but, at least to Ciel, the hunger in Sebastian's eyes resembles his own need for something solid to clutch to more than ever. _He understands,_ Ciel thinks, astounded. _He knows, that's why he…_

''Stupid demon,'' Ciel says the minute Sebastian's mouth leaves his own, but, even to his own ears, it sounds much more like an endearment than an admonishment. And for once, he finds he doesn't mind at all…

The butler doesn't answer, simply looks at the boy some more.

''...thank you, Sebastian.''

''Am I to assume the young master is unwell?'' Sebastian asks, pressing the back of his hand to Ciel's brow.

''No, I feel quite well, as a matter of fact.'' Ciel responds, a look of bewilderment settling on his countenance.

''I apologise, then, young master, but since you went as far as to _openly_ display gratitude…''

''Bastard,'' Ciel grouses.

''I humbly beg your pardon, my lord.'' Sebastian chuckles, going back to rubbing mindless patterns along Ciel's back.

After a spell, Ciel speaks again. ''I don't fear it, you know.''

Sebastian's hands still. ''Don't fear what, young master?''

''The day you'll take my soul.''

''Young master…''

''You wanted to, I could sense it.''

''I would never—''

Ciel reaches out, putting a hand where Sebastian's heart resides. ''I know,'' he assures. ''I know, Sebastian, don't worry. And if anything, I'm glad that's how my life will end.''

Sebastian smiles, and clasps Ciel's hand. ''I made a much better choice than I could've ever hoped for, all those years ago.''

''You saved me, all those years ago.''

Sebastian's hand moves to softly caress the lid of Ciel's right eye. ''Not many would regard it as salvation, little one.''

''Not many would cling to a demon for comfort.'' Ciel retorts with a mild flush that the demon can see clearly in spite of the dark.

''Indeed.''

And so, in the dark, framed by eerie shadows in the arms of a ravenous beast, Ciel Phantomhive sleeps soundly.


	15. Chapter 15: Ronald x Mey-Rin

**Disclaimer:** Does it count if I legally change my name to Yana Toboso?

 **Author's Note:** I wrote some Ronald x Mey-Rin cause I figured someone might like it. I haven't really looked but I doubt many fics about these two exist. I kind of used this as a writing exercise, you'll notice this differs from my usual writing style.

 **Warnings:** Mey-Rin x Ronald. (Would the portmanteau ship name for them be Mey-Ron?) Time jumps? (Even _I_ don't know honestly, feel free to make up your own timeline.) Unnecessarily dramatic. Does the use of roman numerals warrant a warning?

 **Forever**

 **IV**

''Forever,'' he says with that debonair grin of his and she doesn't know whether she should return it or break down sobbing.

 **I**

He doesn't expect to fall in love with her. Doesn't expect to fall in love with anyone, really. If this line of work has taught him anything is that death is the only certainty and he doesn't see any beauty in pining after the dead. So of course, he falls in love with her. Hard. Like the most besotted of fools.

He had met her in passing first, had looked at her, flirted as he was wont to and then forgotten about her, completely omitted the generically-cute, dime-a-dozen, red-haired maid he had promised a date to. Then, because the almighty is a fan of bad jokes like that, he sees her again a couple of years later. Another assignment on Phantomhive Manor, petty crooks hired by someone who wants a sixteen year old boy dead, same old, same old.

Except he gets there earlier on accident and he _sees_ her. And she's… the most perfect catastrophe he's ever laid eyes on. If he could ram his own death-scythe down his throat he would because… _fuck_. One moment she's breaking dishes and fawning over that raven-haired abomination and the next she's ruthlessly murdering. Ruthlessly trying to murder him. And it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

 **II**

She doesn't remember him at first. Sure, she recalls a good-looking gentleman and that time her master went on a cruise only to barely escape with his life intact. She recalls blushing, too. But the thing is, at this point blushing may as well have been her profession. So yes, she doesn't remember Ronald Knox, death god and ladies' man extraordinaire.

He is… _oddly_ affronted, considering that he almost ran her over with that _thing_ he was riding.

In his defense, she did try to shoot him and she'd have succeeded too, if only he hadn't smiled at her. Anyway, he smiles at her and she thinks that his smile must be what sunshine tastes like, which is probably the most foolish thing she's ever thought, it isn't even sunny and this is London for heaven's sake!

 **III**

He gives her flowers. He gives her flowers and she can almost picture it: the courting, the marriage proposal, the happily ever after.

She almost chokes.

 **V**

When he'd said forever he hadn't meant forever the way a human might. That forever didn't exist for him. He'd never curse her with the promise of _that_ forever. He was much too selfish for that, yet still he notices. How her shoulders stiffen, how that genuine, slightly crooked smile of hers tightens and he gets this inexplicable urge to hold her, just to make sure she won't run away.

 **VI**

She dies. She dies and he's still besottedly in love with her. He's pretty sure Mister Spears is going to have that scar for awhile but he doesn't fucking _care_ because someone should have told him. Emotionally compromised his rosy behind. He should have been the one to… one last time, was it really that much to ask?

Tears threaten to spill; he closes his eyes because he's sure that if the deluge starts he won't be able to stop it. He sees himself asking a question to a blushing girl in pigtails and then rushing off. He imagines it must've taken her awhile to stop blushing after he left. He almost smiles. Almost.

 **VII**

He's rushing to work one day, a couple of weeks (months, years, what difference does it make really) later and he hears someone call out to him. He stops dead in his tracks. Turns around. Sees her. Almost trips on his own two feet rushing to hold her again.

''You promised me forever, Mister Knox,'' she says. She has an acacia flower pinned behind her ear and she's smiling at him.

He almost chokes. He takes one look at her and immediately decides that this shade of green was made to adorn her eyes. He sees her smile widen and she's blushing now and she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and what else can he do if not kiss her?

 **I**

''Forever,'' he says with that debonair grin of his...

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

 **I have no literary talent whatsoever; I apologize for this mess of a story. But if it fulfills anyone's _Mey-Ron_ needs then I'm glad.**

 **Acacia meant immortality of the soul/secret love in Victorian times.**


	16. Chapter 16: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Once upon a time there was a girl. She didn't own Black Butler. Legend has it that if she had, the subtext wouldn't have been all that subtle. Or... you know, subtext at all. The end.

 **Author's Note:** I'm only posting this because it made me laugh and it is **not** meant to offend your religion.

 **Warnings:** AU. Silliness abound. Does it even count as sacrilege?

 **Caught**

In retrospect, Ciel muses that having sex in here might not have been the best idea; it _was_ a church after all. In his mind, he resorts to blaming Sebastian, so that when they get viciously murdered by the priest currently glaring daggers at them, who just so happens to be his _father,_ he can retain some modicum of self-respect. He chooses to (rather conveniently, some might say) omit the fact that he was the one that dragged Sebastian in here in the first place.

It _was_ all Sebastian's fault though, wasn't it? Ever since they'd first met he'd been hell bent on making a mess out of Ciel's life. First, there'd been the shameless flirting. Then he'd kissed him. Then Ciel had started having those blasted wet dreams. And now here they were, having somehow ended up almost completely naked in church pews. In _freaking_ church pews! Ciel would beg God for help, (it _i_ _s_ the appropriate thing to do, considering the setting) but in his current predicament he can't see why the almighty would be inclined to provide it.

''Dad,'' he says, flustered and averting his gaze. ''I don't think you've ever met Sebastian?''

Vincent is about to respond when what is sure to be an angry tirade is interrupted by a deafening shriek and a harsh thud. Ciel looks up, only to see Sister Mey-Rin lying on the floor with blood still leaking from her nose. He turns around. Of _course_ Sebastian hasn't put his pants back on...

 _Great comedic timing there, big guy,_ Ciel thinks, looking upward.

With some luck lightning might strike and incinerate them all. At the moment, Ciel wouldn't much mind. Who knows? Hell might be a nice place, certainly warm if the Good Book is anything to go by. It _is_ starting to get a bit drafty in here after all...


	17. Chapter 17: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Ownership: the act, state or right of possessing something. Yeah... I don't have that over Kuroshitsuji.

 **Author's Note:** I realized, halfway through writing this fic, that I have a thing for dialogue-centered fics where Sebastian has a (completely unnecessary) flair for the dramatic and Ciel is just kinda there without his canon dastardliness and blushes a lot. Consider this the same AU as chapter 10, if you want.

I am not completely satisfied with this to be honest, it's just fluff with an awkward finish, it has no substance. Who am I to judge you for the crap you read, though? Especially when it also happens to be the crap that _I_ wrote...

 **Warnings:** Well, there's an OC and my ubiquitous love for vaguely sexual stuff. On that note, mentions of sitophilia? Also, at my school, a literature teacher is usually in charge of handling the library so in this fic I see Professor Edwin (the OC) as a literature teacher.

 **Libraries, Exams and Ice-Cream**

 **Ciel** (storms into the library, visibly irritated, comes to a halt 2 centimeters behind Sebastian's chair): Michaelis!

 **Sebastian** (focused on his book, turns around slowly): Oh, Ciel. Is something wrong?

 **Ciel** (seething): You know perfectly well what's wrong.

 **Sebastian** (perfectly calm): No, I'm afraid I don't.

 **Professor Edwin** (pops seemingly out of nowhere, rapidly moves toward where Ciel and Sebastian are standing): Phantomhive, this is a library. Either keep your voice down or leave.

 **Ciel** (whinging): But professor, I failed my exam because of him!

 **Professor Edwin** (turning towards Sebastian): Is that true, Michaelis?

 **Sebastian** (still perfectly calm, half focused on his book): Of course not, professor.

 **Professor Edwin** (still facing Sebastian): Well, Phantomhive here has no reason to lie; to the best of my knowledge your relationship has been perfectly cordial to this day, hasn't it?

 **Ciel** (somewhat calmer, nodding in approval): He intentionally distracted me, professor.

 **Professor Edwin** (very serious): Could you describe the nature of this distraction, Phantomhive?

 **Ciel** (suddenly turns red, turns his eyes to the floor): Erm, well he was...

 **Ciel** (blush intensifies, starts fidgeting a lot): If you wouldn't mind professor, I'd much rather discuss this with him alone.

 **Sebastian** (suddenly very interested in the conversation, staring at Ciel with mild amusement): No, do tell, _Phantomhive_. Was my diabolical plan so iniquitous that you can't even speak of it?

 **Ciel** (averts his gaze, starts to stammer): P-professor, is this r-really necessary?

 **Professor Edwin** (stern): Since you saw fit to cause a disruption in my library, yes it is.

 **Ciel** (gives a resigned sigh): He was biting his pen, alright?

 _Sebastian sniggers._

 **Professor Edwin** (confused): And how did that lead to you failing the exam?

 **Ciel** (still blushing and overall flustered): Because I couldn't focus on anything else!

 **Professor Edwin** (gives a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement): I see... Perhaps it is best to leave you to sort this out on your own.

 _She leaves._

 **Sebastian** (turns to face Ciel completely, grinning from ear to ear): I apologise profusely, it was never my intent to distract you so, whatever shall I do to earn your forgiveness?

 **Ciel** (embarrassed): Oh shut up!

 **Sebastian** (moves closer to Ciel until they're almost touching): However shall I rectify myself if I do that?

 **Ciel** (even more flustered than earlier): Bastard.

 **Sebastian** (starts to lean closer, smirking): If you say so...

 _Sebastian kisses Ciel._

 _Ciel reciprocates rather vigorously for a bit, then remembers himself and pushes Sebastian away._

 **Sebastian** (clutching his heart theatrically): How cruel you are to the man who loves you.

 _Ciel yelps at the word love._

 **Sebastian** (with the same obnoxious theatrics): Have I shocked you, my sweet Ciel? I speak but a humble truth. Thou art the owner of my heart.

 _Ciel picks up the book Sebastian had been reading and smacks him across the head with it._

 **Ciel** (very irritated): Would you cut it out; everyone's staring. Just admit you distracted me on purpose!

 **Sebastian** (levelly, while rubbing the back of his head): Yes, I did.

 **Ciel** (triumphant): I knew it!

 **Ciel** (less jubilant): ...but why?

 **Sebastian** (leans closer to whisper in Ciel's ear): Because I so adore seeing you blush.

 _Sebastian gives a soft, teasing bite to Ciel's ear before leaning away._

 **Ciel** (exasperated): Seriously Sebastian? We've been dating for five years and you're still not over this little fetish of yours?

 **Sebastian** (shrugs nonchalantly): What can I say; I just love seeing your cute little face all red.

 **Ciel** (revolted): I am not cute!

 **Sebastian** (still very nonchalant): Whatever you say, _sugarplum_.

 **Ciel** (shaking a finger at him): Se _bas_ tian!

 **Sebastian** (wraps an arm around a protesting Ciel): Now that that's settled, wanna go get some ice-cream?

 **Ciel** (struggling to get out of Sebastian's grasp): How about an apology first, you insufferable bastard?

 **Sebastian** (seductively, in Ciel's ear): That's what the ice-cream is for; I'll spend all night making it up to you. We might need some cherries, though. Since I popped yours quite awhile ago and all that...

 **Ciel** (red enough to pass for a cherry himself): Seriously Sebastian?!

 **Sebastian** (cheerily dragging Ciel out of the library): I take that as a yes?

 **Ciel** (resignedly): ...yes.

 _They exit, the library doors close and a wet-sounding smack, quite akin to that of lips touching, echoes behind them._


	18. Chapter 18: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Must you insult me so?

 **Author's Note:** This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile and the urge to finish it struck me yesterday. There's a better story lurking under this premise (and it already exists, go read _Maiden of the Moon's **'**_ **'Spider Web''** ) but I like what I conjured up and if you do too, then awesome.

Something that I'd like to clarify before anyone reads this is that I don't delude myself into thinking that the idea of Sebastian feeling anything as wholesome as love for Ciel is anything but OOC, in and on its own. But the thing is that we, being humans ourselves, expect human things of Sebastian. Which, as understandable as it is, is, at least in my opinion, a terribly limited view of his character.

See, the way I choose to look at it, Ciel is Sebastian's Magnum Opus. To me it's art, the way he prepares Ciel's soul. And even if it's somewhat questionable whether he has anything resembling a soul himself I do believe that if a demon equivalent exists he has poured it into creating this perfect meal. And I love the idea that after it all ends he's left with a void, endless eternity and this longing that he can't justify with simply wanting to re-sample a perfect dish. Because Ciel has always exceeded his expectations of humanity, hasn't he?

 **Warnings:** Terribly sappy. Sebastian pining after the things he's lost.

 **A Veritable Demon**

Demons didn't dream.

'' _Remember me Sebastian, even if just in a dream.''_

Demons didn't dream, but he scarcely needed to in order to see the child's face, in order to remember him. In fact, on some days, he wished he could forget, wished that he'd no longer be able to recall the silken feel of sweat-slicked ebony locks as they slid through his fingers, the penetrating stare of mismatched eyes or the warmth of the child's breath on his skin as the boy whispered his last request.

Demons didn't yearn.

'' _Of course I didn't actually believe you were dead! …still, I am glad you're back.''_

Demons didn't yearn and they most certainly did not grapple onto the incomplete fragments of a nostalgia-clouded past the same way a drowning man would to sea foam. Yet here he was, eyes closed and traitorously fleeting memories playing on repeat behind them. He so desperately yearned for the feeling of those bony arms tightly wrapped around his neck in an almost suffocating embrace.

Demons didn't feel.

'' _What would you know of things such as love, anyway?''_

Demons didn't feel but, on some days, he doubted he even was a demon anymore. For the demon he'd been wasn't Sebastian, but Sebastian was all he had left. He'd lost too much to let that go too. Even if all that remained now, after colorless centuries had passed him by in the blink of an eye, were the barely-sufficient syllables of a name he'd once despised and repulsive… _things_ that made his chest constrict each time his lashes lowered and he saw a small boy sullenly glaring at him or, rarely, smiling the sweetest of smiles, (Which Sebastian, not usually as fond of sweet things as he was of bitter spices to better enrich a meal, had adored, even back then.) behind them.

Demons didn't make mistakes.

 _''It's all right, Sebastian. Take it, I don't mind. You've earned it.''_

Not human ones, anyway. But what was love, if not the gravest of human mistakes? And he, a veritable demon until the very end, could do nothing but admit that his gravest mistake to date wasn't loving a child so scared by the light he could only ever find comfort in his darkness.

No, his gravest mistake, Sebastian mused, too tired and weary to repeat lies he hadn't believed in a long, long time, was letting himself believe that he could stop loving him.

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _Fin_**


	19. Chapter 19: Ciel x Charles Grey

**Disclaimer:** No Kuroshitsuji ownership for me. *wails*

 **Author's Note:** Okay, this time around I'm 99.9999% sure no fics of these two exist. So, of course, I had to go and write one.

 **Warnings:** Ciel x Charles Grey. I read this cute little Grey x Reader fic from _pearypie_ on AO3 where he vehemently denied his affections for the Reader despite how obvious they were. (The first thing that came to mind was, ''The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'' There initially was a Shakespeare quote in here because of that, but I removed it as it seemed a bit pretentious to quote 16th century literature in this silly piece of writing. Plus, I shamefully admit that I haven't read nearly as much 16th century literature as I'd like to.) Also, older!Ciel.

 **Tuesdays**

Charles Grey is trying to kill him. _It must be Tuesday,_ Ciel thinks, stifling a yawn. ''Ah, Earl Grey, what brings you here today,'' he asks, completely unperturbed by the sword poking at his ribs.

''Simply trying to rid myself of a nuisance currently residing in my backside,'' Grey intones conversationally.

Ciel fights the urge to snort. Earls didn't snort, no matter how situationally-appropriate it was. If Grey had ever actually wanted to kill him, one of them would have been dead a long time ago and it wouldn't have been Ciel. ''Is that so? Perhaps you should simply resort to using more comfortable chairs,'' Ciel retorts idly, the smallest of smirks dancing on the corner of his lips.

''Why, you little brat!'' Grey seethes and digs the tip of his sword deeper into Ciel's ribs, eliciting an annoyed grunt of mild pain.

''Or is it that you missed me, my _dearest_ Earl? If so, the theatrics are quite unnecessary, I fear. I am always happy to be in your company,'' he simpers, slowly letting it evolve into a full-fledged smirk of defiance.

The sword falls to the ground with a clattering noise and, before he can even blink, Ciel finds himself hoisted up in the air by the lapels of his coat.

''You insufferable, vexing…'' Grey begins, drawing him nearer with each word.

''Calling the kettle black much?'' Ciel mocks dryly, glancing at his perfectly manicured nails.

''…arrogant and maddeningly beautiful thing.'' Grey continues, and now their noses are touching and he can feel the hot exhales of Ciel's breath on his skin.

Ciel cocks an incredulous eyebrow at him, as if asking, _Really?_ ''I loathe having to repeat myself,'' Ciel says, ''especially within such a short span of time, but, calling the kettle—mmph.'' He is, rather artfully, stopped by the abrupt press of Grey's lips on his own.

 _It most certainly is Tuesday,_ Ciel thinks, relishing in the intoxicating sensation of soft lips moving ardently against his own. Then, Grey's hands move to undo his flies and as he's being none-too-gently laid atop his own desk Ciel concludes that this has a much better chance of killing him than the sword lying forgotten on the ground ever did.

* * *

 _It was a rather entertaining Tuesday,_ Ciel thinks, silently watching Grey sheathe his sword. Just before the Earl turns to leave he calls out to him. ''Earl Grey, I believe you owe me an apology.''

The Earl, much more compliant after being properly sated, pauses with one hand on the doorknob and gives Ciel a questioning glance.

''As you yourself witnessed mere moments ago, I am not little at all,'' he says with an impish smirk.

Surely poor Grey doesn't blush. No, of course he doesn't. Simply a trick of the light. He does remain inexplicably stationary, however.

Ciel chuckles, strides across the room, and claims Grey's lips once more. By the time they part again they're both panting slightly, and Ciel forces himself to shoo the older man out the door before the cycle can restart. ''I eagerly await our next encounter,'' he whispers against the other's lips before letting him go. Moments later, he can't resist poking his head out the door and adding, ''Oh, and Earl Grey… do remember to use an extra cushion, or else sitting down might prove to be quite painful for awhile.''

Tuesdays are always such fun! Now, if he could convince Sebastian to make him a parfait…

 **... ... ... ... ... ...**

Reviews are terribly appreciated, even if this pairing isn't your cup of tea. I'd love to hear your general thoughts. I do read them all (All 17 of them. Phew, what an _arduous_ task that was. :D) and if I didn't respond chances are I spent too much time fangirling over it and then felt too awkward and fluffy inside to do so.

On a side note, how many of you knew that versions of the idiom _''The pot calling the kettle black''_ have been used since the 17th century?


	20. Chapter 20: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** *sobs violently*

 **Author's Note:** Ciel is a kitten for no valid reason in this story. Just go with it.

 **Warnings:** Written at 3 in the morning. Contains one minor reference to animal cruelty.

 **The Kitten Story**

''Sebastian, get Sieglinde here and force her to turn me back into a human.'' So much for words he thought he'd never have to say. Then again, he'd never thought he'd see the day when he'd get turned into a bloody cat, either.

''Is it truly such a pressing matter, young master? Wouldn't it be best to see if the effect wears off on its own?'' Sebastian was looking adoringly at the black kitten splayed regally atop the bed, barely restraining himself from cuddling him to his heart's content

If kittens could raise their eyebrows incredulously, this one just did. ''You just want an excuse to keep me in this form longer, don't you, you cat-obsessed idiot?'' Ciel (quite literally, seeing as he was a currently turned into a cat) hissed.

''You _are_ rather fetching at the moment, young master,'' the butler admitted.

Ciel could practically _feel_ the mindless adoration rolling off Sebastian. It was revolting. ''What is it with this ridiculous obsession of yours, anyway? Aren't you a demon? Shouldn't you take pleasure in ripping cats apart and consuming their innards rather than wanting to pet them?''

Sebastian looked positively appalled. ''That is preposterous, my lord. I would _never_ harm an adorable little kitten such as you.''

The hair on Ciel's back rose. ''I am no such thing!''

Sebastian chuckled. ''I fear I must disagree, you are quite charming in this form.''

 _As if getting turned into a cat wasn't punishment enough on its own,_ Ciel lamented. ''Why did you even let me drink that beverage Sieglinde gave me without inspecting it in the first place,'' he asked.

Sebastian coughed… and started tugging at his collar.

''You, you knew what effect it would have on me, didn't you,'' Ciel accused. ''You did this on purpose!''

''My lord—''

''Don't you dare! I am a cat, Sebastian! A bloody small one, at that!''

''Yes, you are rather petit,'' he agreed with an air of fondness.

Ciel growled, embarking on an enraged tirade insulting Sebastian's intelligence, his capability to perform the simplest of tasks, his heritage and even his mother, even if he wasn't entirely sure the demon had one. He also suggested a large number of things for Sebastian to shove up his posterior.

''Now, now, young lord, forgetting your manners simply won't do,'' Sebastian admonished when Ciel—having run out of breath—finally stopped shouting, nowhere near as stern as he would have been under common circumstances.

''Since you seem to fail to grasp the severity of the situation let me paraphrase it once again for you Sebastian,'' Ciel said with unusual calmness. ''You let Sieglinde turn me into a cat, and now you have the audacity to admit it to my face without even an ounce of repentance!''

''I am under strict orders not to lie, young master. And expecting remorse from a demon is, if you'll permit me, rather foolish of you.''

Ciel sighed… or came as close to sighing as a cat ever could anyway. ''If I let you pet me, _then_ will you do what I've asked?''

Sebastian's whole face lit up. He lunged forward, scooping a faintly struggling kitten Ciel up in his arms. ''Oh, young master,'' he said, rubbing his cheek against Ciel's fur, ''your fur feels sublime, so soft, so lustrous.'' He gave a contented _ah,_ further harassing the poor kitten.

Ciel struck his claws into Sebastian's flesh. ''Gently, do it gently you massive dunce!''

''I beg your pardon, my lord, I got carried away.'' He started softy petting Ciel, scratching behind his ears, running his hand along the full expanse of his body up to the tip of his tail, and gently rubbing his paws.

Ciel, for his part, was rather surprised to find he was actually starting to enjoy Sebastian's ministrations. Before he could stop himself he started purring contently and leaning into Sebastian's touch. ''That actually feels… good.''

''But of course. What kind of butler would I be if I couldn't even bring pleasure to my young master,'' Sebastian asked, tilting Ciel's jaw upwards with one finger.

Ciel bit the aforementioned finger. Hard. ''Just pet me some more, we can fix this tomorrow.''

''Yes, my lord.''


	21. Chapter 21: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, sure, I own Kuroshitsuji, _and_ the full rights to the Harry Potter franchise. Oh... today's not April Fools, is it?

 **Author's Note:** This doesn't _feel_ quite finished, but I honestly can _not_ spend more time tinkering with it or I'll probably lose my mind.

 **Warnings:** I'm pretty sure they had some steamy sex afterwards, does that count?

 **Death (and other such pleasures)**

''Were you scared, little one?'' Sebastian whispers against the shell of the boy's ear.

''Tch, scared? Don't make me laugh,'' Ciel retorts icily, trying to hide the shiver that goes through him when Sebastian's hot breath touches his skin.

''That Death God could've stolen your life—would've even—if he hadn't been stopped, and yet you stood there calmly, waiting.''

Ciel turns around, giving a violent tug to Sebastian's tie. Once the demon meets his gaze Ciel smiles, cold and cruel and perfectly wicked. ''You are to be my death Sebastian, you and no one else.''

Sebastian laughs, his head lolls back ever so slightly, and Ciel thinks it's the first time he's heard a sound so genuine fall from the demon's lips. ''Indeed, that honour shall be mine,'' he agrees.

''Honour,'' Ciel snorts. ''So you intend to be reverent? You won't simply tear me apart like a starving beast?''

It is meant to be condescending, but the demon can hear the doubt behind it. ''Of course,'' he says. ''You are a meal to be savoured, young master, and I fully intend to do so.''

Blue eyes widen, and the boy smirks again. ''Until that far off day, how do you plan to keep me entertained, demon?''

''I could eat you in less socially appropriate ways,'' Sebastian suggests nonchalantly.

Ciel's face turns red, but he doesn't shy away. ''Mmm, yes, you could,'' he agrees, letting Sebastian tilt his jaw upwards.


	22. Chapter 22: CieLizzie

**Disclaimer:** What do Black Butler and The Mona Lisa have in common? They both don't belong to me.

 **Author's Note:** I wrote actual, proper CieLizzie. I'm so proud of myself, it's almost silly. Because, even if I find the ship pretty cute, I never thought that _I_ could write something plausible for it. I _might_ expand this or write a sequel someday.

I would've posted it sooner, but my laptop broke down and it took a while to get it fixed.

 **Warnings:** This time it's in chronological order... I think? References to Ciel's touch phobia.

 _ **Present**_

He hasn't played with toys in a long time.

''Pleeeaaaseee Cieeel,'' Elizabeth pleads, clutching the fluffy rabbit to her chest. ''I promise it won't take too long; you can finish your work later.''

''All right, all right, you win.'' His tone would suggest he's rather exasperated, but the slight curl of his lip betrays quite a bit, and after all these years Elizabeth has grown quite adept at deciphering the intricate mystery that is Ciel Phantomhive. She mirrors the smile.

And Ciel concludes that even if he hasn't played with toys in a long time perhaps he should. Who knows when he'll get to again, afterwards…?

 _ **Brave**_

It suddenly occurs to Ciel that Elizabeth is a lot braver than he ever gave her credit for. She still hugs him even if, even on good days, he can barely bring himself to half-heartedly wrap an arm around her dainty, pink-clad waist. She still plays chess with him even if he beats her every time, usually in less than 6 moves. She still sprints in the moment the doors open, uncaring of propriety, and loudly proclaims that she missed him, even if he rarely ever does more than glance at her with fond annoyance.

Yes, Ciel thinks, fiddling with the wedding ring he will have to put on her finger tomorrow in front of everyone he's ever met, and even some people he hasn't, Elizabeth is a lot braver than him, because she doesn't fear loving him and he… he isn't sure if he can at all.

 _ **Kiss**_

It's a sweet kiss, soft and chaste; Ciel leans in after the priest says the words—only to swiftly part their mouths again when he notices both Aunt Frances and Edward glaring at him with murder in their eyes— blushing even more fiercely than his bride.

It's not his— _their_ first, though. That had been a birthday gift when he turned sixteen. ''I wanted to give you something only I could give,'' Elizabeth had said afterwards, sheepish, but beaming. Ciel had stared at the ground for a solid five minutes before mustering the courage to meet her gaze and mumble a terribly awkward, yet genuine, ''Thank you, Lizzie.'' Sebastian had chuckled shamelessly, and made numerous remarks about his young lord finally becoming a man. Needless to say, Ciel had slapped him the minute Lizzie had left.

 _ **Love**_

''Do you love me,'' Elizabeth asks. It's their wedding night and she's so brilliant, all golden curls and beaming smiles that Ciel doesn't even feel like he's lying when he says yes.

 _ **Nervousness**_

She gnaws at her lip nervously. ''We don't have to… If it makes you uncomfortable—'' she begins.

Ciel doesn't blame her; he's touched her on his own volition less than a dozen times in the past years. Still… ''N-no,'' he interrupts, voice shaky but still, somehow, assertive. ''I, I want to… With you, it's alright.'' And it is. He hasn't really thought about actually doing this before with anyone, but Lizzie isn't just anyone. She's beautiful and brilliant and _his_ and her lips are always soft and she tastes like vanilla and he's anything but uncomfortable.

His nervousness falls to the ground along with her nightclothes. ''Beautiful,'' he murmurs reverently against her skin as she moans and writhes beneath him. ''Perfect.''

The next morning, when he wakes up in her arms, it occurs to him that it's the first night he's slept soundly in longer than he cares to remember.

 **... ... ... ... ... ...**

What can I say? Sometimes you just wanna write something _Lighter and Softer_ than the canon material. Feedback = important. Seriously, a simple ''Hey, I liked it.'' means the world sometimes.


	23. Chapter 23: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Owning Black Butler is the main reason why, when I can't sleep at three AM, I stay up writing unnecessarily dramatic fanfic for it. *snorts*

 **Author's Note:** Here, have the climax/ending/resolving point? of an angst-filled AU fic I'll most likely never write.

 **Warnings:** Ciel and Sebastian have been dancing around their feelings for quite a bit in this AU; here's where it all blows up. (Rather quietly, all things considered.)

 **Meant to Be**

''Back then I thought it was meant to be, you know,'' Ciel says, toying restlessly with the hem of his jumper. ''I think that I realized I was idiotically wrong a little too late. There's no such thing as meant to be.'' His gaze remains steadily focused on the floor.

''Ciel,'' Sebastian says, the other's name a desperate plea on his lips.

''No, let me finish, Sebastian. Please.'' _Or I'll break,_ he thinks.

For the most fleeting of instants Sebastian seems to be fighting the urge to say something, but then his gaze hardens, and he nods compliantly.

''There's no such thing as meant to be,'' Ciel repeats. ''We should've made it what we wanted it to become, but we were both too stubborn to admit it. To admit that we wanted each-other. As more than… whatever we were back then.''

Sebastian wants to say something. Anything. But he can't, because all that comes to mind are things like, ''I still want you,'' or maybe, ''It's not too late,'' and it all sounds so terribly cliché, even inside his head. Clichés never _had_ worked for them. So he doesn't say anything.

Ciel's gaze is oddly expectant, considering what he's just told Sebastian. ''You agree too, don't you,'' he mumbles under his breath. He's waiting, Sebastian realizes. It's his move now.

''I don't,'' he says without any shadow of doubt. ''I didn't know what to tell you, back then… Didn't know how to deal with any of it, really, and I'm sorry about that, but I still want you, Ciel.'' So much for _that_ , then.

Ciel starts gnawing at his bottom lip. He glances at the door and Sebastian's heart drops to his feet. He _can't_ leave. Not now. Not again. Not after all they've been through.

''Do you really?'' Ciel asks. His eyes meet Sebastian's for the first time since they'd started this conversation.

Sebastian's answering smile carries the smallest smidgeon of hope. ''Of course I do,'' he says. ''I know I'm telling you this more than a decade too late, but it's true. Ciel, I lo—''

''No,'' Ciel shouts suddenly. ''Please don't say that!''

 _So that's what it feels like to have your heart smashed into a thousand small fragments,_ Sebastian thinks. He gulps. ''I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,'' he whispers, eyes suddenly fixed to the floor, ''if you don't feel the same way—''

That's when Ciel starts laughing and clutching his sides so hard that Sebastian worries he might have lost his mind for a minute or two.

''Ciel… are you all right?''

''Of—hah—of course,'' he pauses, wiping a tear from his eye. ''Of course—hah, oh my God—of course I'm all right you bloody clueless fool!''

''I'm afraid I don't quite understand what's so funny.''

''You wouldn't,'' Ciel replies with a snort. At Sebastian's quizzical look he adds, ''I love you. I'm standing here, telling you I've pined after you for almost half my life and you try to tell me that it's okay if I don't feel the same way. God, you're an idiot.''

Sebastian's whole face lights up. He starts laughing too. ''I really am a bloody fool, aren't I?''

''Yes, you really are one.''

He sounds a whole lot less cheery when he asks, ''Maybe, I could be your bloody fool?''

Ciel's breath-stealing kiss is answer enough for him.


	24. Chapter 24: Onesided Sebastian x Mey-Rin

**Disclaimer:** This is such a terrible crackfic that if Miss Toboso ever wrote something like this I'd lose faith in humanity. It is safe to say I don't own the thing.

 **Author's Note:** I apologize, I truly, honestly do, but I found this in my drafts and it made me laugh, so I figured not everything I write has to make sense...

 **Warnings:** Crack. Senseless, utterly crackish crack. I don't know _what_ was going through my head when I wrote this.

 **The Woes of Fatherhood**

It was bound to happen, if not today then tomorrow. With her eyesight being as poor as it was, it was a wonder Mey-Rin hadn't had some disastrous accident that even the magnificent butler of the Phantomhives couldn't prevent even sooner.

She'd tripped over a box of shoe polish and hit her head. With the Earl and his butler away on business there had been no one to dash in with all the grace of a shonen manga protagonist and save the day… or the maid.

The doctor had said there had been no permanent damage, and whatever temporary symptoms she might display should pass with time, as long as they took care not to worsen her condition. However, it was rather difficult for a household to run smoothly when its maid kept pinching the Earl's cheeks and calling herself his ''father'' while clinging to the household's butler and asking him if watching what a fine young man their son was turning into made him proud to be his ''mother''.

Three days passed before the hapless Earl finally reached the end of his patience. ''Sebastian,'' he shouted. ''Please tell Mey-Rin that I will absolutely _not_ allow her to spoon-feed me!''

Before the chuckling butler had a chance to compose himself and reply the maid did so herself. ''But Ciel-dear, don't you love your father,'' she wailed, putting a hand over her face in a histrionic display of sadness. The moustache she had glued onto it rather spoiled the intended effect, though.

''I most certainly do not!'' Ciel replied, his irritation so palpable it was almost an entity of its own.

''Mother, tell me, why does our son hate me so?''

Sebastian stifled another chuckle before responding solemnly. ''I am certain the Young Master doesn't hate you, Mey-Rin. Isn't that right, Young Master?'' Silence. ''Isn't that _right_ , _Young Master_?'' Somewhere, a cricket chirped. ''Young Master—''

''I am perfectly capable of hearing properly, thank you, Sebastian.''

''He truly does hate me, doesn't he?'' She asked as she rushed to clutch at Sebastian's shirt. ''Oh, where did we go wrong, mother?''

''Take your hands off my butler,'' Ciel ordered, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead. This was going to be a another long day…


	25. Chapter 25: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I own a school uniform, if that helps?

 **Author's Note:** I wanted to write something darker originally, but I like this, too.

 **Warnings:** Pre-canon, so Ciel is about 10. Sexual themes, parallels between a demon's hunger and lust. Oddly fluffy-ish at the end.

 **A Child's Innocence** (and a Demon's Desire)

''Wait,'' the boy says, clutching Sebastian's sleeve to keep him from leaving. He is a dainty thing, barely two feet above ground and fragile, made even more so by all the horrors he's had to endure. Sebastian could break away easily if he wanted to, but if he did, what kind of butler would he be?

''Yes, my lord? What is it you require?'' he asks.

A thoughtful look clouds Ciel's features; after a moment, seemingly having come to the decision that it is too late to turn back now, he speaks again. ''Tell me, Sebastian,'' he says, ''are demons anything like humans?''

The unexpected display of curiosity takes Sebastian by surprise. Nevertheless, he answers. ''I cannot think of many similarities, young master.''

Ciel's nose wrinkles in distaste. It seems this is not the answer he was looking for. ''But, you're acting like a human _now_ , aren't you,'' he pushes.

A placid smile settles on Sebastian's (deceptively human) features. ''Yes, but that is because I am currently under a contract, it is my duty to become what best suits the young master's needs.'' His smile turns the slightest bit predatory, and for a second Ciel could swear he sees a glint of sharp teeth. ''Besides,'' the butler says, ''you should know better than anyone that there is a difference between pretense and reality, _my lord_.''

Ciel harrumphs, pouting outright. ''I know _that_ ,'' he says, crossing two spindly arms over his chest. ''But you can't be that different! You should have _some_ similarities, like…'' he pauses, looking for an appropriate comparison. ''Like, for instance, you want things too, don't you?''

''I am not plagued by greed the same way humans are, and I am more than properly equipped to resist urges of any sort, should the need arise,'' Sebastian says, almost in the same tone he uses for his Latin lectures.

''What about my soul, then? You want that, don't you?''

Something in the air shifts, the words fill the room, and, under Sebastian's glimmering red gaze, Ciel finds it a lot harder to breathe evenly than he did a moment before. He almost considers ducking under the covers, if only so that he doesn't have to face the piercing intensity in those hellish eyes.

''That, young master,'' the butler says, leaning closer to the boy in a way that makes the young Earl's heartbeat speed up considerably, ''is not mere _want_.''

Ciel gulps. ''W-Why not?'' he asks, voice stammering a lot more visibly than he would've liked it to.

''It simply is not. It is not the same craving you feel for sweets, nor is it anything as superficial and fleeting as what a human feels.'' This time, Ciel is quite certain Sebastian's smile is not entirely human.

''Not all human emotions are fleeting and superficial,'' he protests, ignoring the foreboding feeling in his stomach the same way he refuses to acknowledge the obvious threat looming somewhere just below Sebastian's blood red gaze. ''There's, there's _love_ , for instance.''

Sebastian's answering chuckle is wholly demonic. ''Love? My, my, and what would the young master know of _that_?''

Ciel feels his face grow warmer. ''I know that it lasts,'' he says, ''I know it isn't _fleeting_.'' A pause, then, much more quietly, ''I love Lizzie, for one.''

Sebastian brushes a hand against Ciel's cheek in a gesture so gentle it can be nothing but deliberate. ''Such purity,'' he murmurs, almost to himself. His gaze, already a murky red, grows even darker.

It reminds Ciel of things from his ever-present nightmares… and yet, he finds he cannot (does not want to) tear his own gaze away. Still, he musters up the courage to ask, ''Why are you looking at me like that, Sebastian?''

Sebastian's hand tangles in his hair, moving to caress the back of his neck. He doesn't answer.

When the silence grows too much to bear, Ciel asks, ''You're hungry, is that it?''

''Yes, my lord, but I fear it is not the kind of hunger your soul alone would succeed in appeasing.'' And suddenly, he's so close that Ciel can feel his breath ghosting over his cheek as he speaks, and he knows he should push him away, order him to stop, break this sinister spell that has taken him captive.

He doesn't.

Instead he asks, ''What would? Appease your hunger, I mean?''

Sebastian's answer comes in the form of a bruising smash of his mouth on Ciel's. It is anything but gentle, anything but human. Maybe that is why Ciel doesn't push him away.

Part of him is afraid; part of him fears Sebastian is going to tear him apart any moment now. He fears those sharp fangs will rip past tender skin and underdeveloped muscle, smash his brittle bones and sink straight into his heart. The other part wants to see what it would feel like if he did.

But then, much too soon, before he can even fully _grasp_ it, Sebastian is pulling away, dragging one black-nailed thumb gingerly across his lower lip, which is the only thing he deigned to sink his teeth into. Ciel is overcome by an entirely unreasonable sort of anger. He glares at the demon. ''You always tell me not to spoil _my_ appetite,'' he complains.

Sebastian's chuckle is, once again, wholly inhuman in its somewhat-cruel sincerity. ''Worry not, young master, my appetite isn't spoiled in the least, this sampling only served to whet it further.''

''You're a liar, you know.''

''I do not lie, my—''

''But you did, you said you could control any urge, and you can't. You lied, Sebastian.'' Ciel's tone is sharp and accusing.

''Any _human_ urge, my lord,'' Sebastian corrects, with his placid smile back in place. ''Demonic urges are a different matter, and generally much harder to rein in.''

That irrational anger flares within Ciel once more. ''And yet you managed to rein it in without much trouble,'' he scoffs. ''You mustn't desire my soul very much at all, then.'' He isn't quite sure why, but he finds that to be a grave offense.

''Tell me, young master, do you enjoy your sweets more when you gobble them up all at once or when you take the time to savour them?'' Sebastian asks.

''When I take the time to properly savour them, I suppose,'' Ciel says, ''but what does that have to do with—''

''It is a poor comparison at best, but you could say it is the same with my meals, young lord. I wish to properly savour every part of you. That is why I refrained from more than a small taste.''

A small, surprised ''Oh...'' is all Ciel can manage.

''Besides,'' Sebastian adds, ''you are still a bit too young for the kind of eating I intend to partake in.'' There is something in his voice that makes Ciel's stomach knot. The promise, perhaps. It is not an unpleasant feeling, all in all.

Ciel wants to respond, to say something, _anything_ to prolong the moment, but Sebastian makes a show of checking his pocket watch. ''It has gotten rather late,'' he says. ''You would do well to rest, my lord.''

As if prompted by Sebastian's words, a yawn stretches Ciel's mouth wide. ''You'll be here in the morning, won't you?'' Ciel asks, blinking sleepily, and Sebastian is reminded again that he is but a child.

''Of course, young master,'' he assures, leaning down to plant a kiss on the boy's forehead as he whispers, ''Good night.''

When Sebastian turns to close the door, his eyes fall on his contractor's slumbering form, and, for a brief moment, he wonders if he has more in common with humans than he originally realised.


	26. Chapter 26: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** ''I do not own it,'' she said listlessly.

 **Author's Note:** I thought I'd try the ''5 times X thing happened'' format... except it's a hundred (but still, technically, 5). Pre-canon, but you can decide how much time passes between each one of these yourself.

 **Warnings:** Implications of prior child abuse.

 **A Mark**

Ciel is all of ten years old, newly-damned, and bleeding from far too many wounds to count, the first time Sebastian's hand traces the lines of his brand. He is all of ten years old, still shivering, and starved. He is all of ten years old, and too tired to fight it, so he lets the demon's hands roam his skin, even if he remembers every single loathsome touch he's had to endure before.

 **…**

The tenth time Sebastian's hands touch his brand, Ciel glares haughtily at him, demanding that he be dressed as quickly as possible. ''Why do you touch it so much,'' he asks.

''Because I find it beautiful,'' Sebastian answers.

''Of course you would,'' Ciel says, tone as cold and hard as ice.

And Sebastian, because he is not yet fully Sebastian, doesn't bother to correct him.

 **…**

The twenty-fifth time Sebastian's hands brush against the marred skin of his brand Ciel snaps. ''Stop doing that!'' he orders, slapping the servant's hand away.

And this time, Sebastian knows better than to remain silent. ''I do not delight in the cruelty that was inflicted upon you. That is a false assumption, young master.''

''Why, then?'' Ciel asks, the slightest sliver of curiosity creeping past the carefully-built walls he's surrounded himself with.

''It beautiful, my lord, because it is a reminder of your strength. There is immense beauty in being faced with such pain and coming out stronger from it. It makes for a worthy soul.''

For the smallest fragment of a moment, the corners of Ciel's lips seem to be turning upwards.

 **…**

The fiftieth time Sebastian touches his brand, Ciel smiles. ''That tickles,'' he complains, half chuckling.

''It was not my intention, young master,'' Sebastian answers, voice filled with something Ciel has learned to recognize as the kind of good-nurtured (good-nurtured for a demon, at least) mischief that promises for a sleepless night.

''Sebastian,'' he wails, drawing out the ''a'' sound of his butler's name.

''Yes, young master?''

''I'm too tired for _that_ tonight.''

''Whatever do you mean, my lord?'' Sebastian's smile is sharp and clearly teasing. His eyes smolder crimson.

''Y-you, you know,'' Ciel answers, stammering, the beginnings of a delightful shade of red blossoming atop his cheeks.

''Oh, but I do not; I fear I haven't the slightest clue what the young master is referring to.''

Ciel turns around to glare at Sebastian, only to realise that he is being viciously mocked. ''Why you—! Out, right this instant.''

Sebastian's next words are spoken directly into the young Earl's ear. ''If that is your wish,'' he whispers, watching the shivers run down his little lord's spine, ''than I shall do so. However,'' he pauses meaningfully, ''I believe there are certain _needs_ of yours that I am required to see to.''

''I said get out!'' Ciel repeats, his face so hot part of him fears it might melt off.

It takes two days and a copious amount of unsolicited sweets for Sebastian to be allowed back inside the Earl's bedchamber.

 **...**

The hundredth time Sebastian's hand touches his scar, Ciel doesn't notice anything but the pleasant sensation of the butler's hands on his skin. He snuggles further into the other's embrace, quite like a satisfied cat. A cat Sebastian is terribly content to keep petting, for as long as he'll be allowed to.


	27. Chapter 27: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** We're still doing this?

 **Author's Note:** I wanted to write something to celebrate, because I had my English final today and I'm just. so. glad. it's. over.

 **Warnings:** The soulmate AU no one asked for.

 **Hope**

It's an otherwise perfectly ordinary Saturday morning when Sebastian first meets his soulmate. He is on his way to the local Starbucks to grab his daily cup of Vanilla late, which is totally _not_ girly, stuff it, Claude—when, just as he's about to push the heavy glass door open, Ciel Phantomhive slams into him.

And the world—it stops moving, and for a moment he's absolutely physically _incapable_ of tearing his eyes away from the boy. He's small, that much is perfectly, _painfully_ evident even in this inexplicable haze he's currently trapped inside and Sebastian… Sebastian finally understands what the phrase ''it takes your breath away'' actually means, because that's exactly what Ciel does to him.

He's heard stories before, about how meeting your soulmate is ''special'' and ''magical'', and all that other trite crap. He's heard them, and he's heard them and he's heard them _again_. And somewhere between his fifth birthday and his parents' divorce, he stopped wanting to have his own to tell someday.

But this isn't—

This isn't something he'll tell a story about someday. It's so much _more_ than that, it's _special_ and _magical_ and _absolutely, indescribably fucking beautiful_. It makes him want to do utterly _idiotic_ things like— _like_ write _poetry_ , spend hours upon hours waxing poetic about the blue in the boy's eyes. Which is just _ridiculous_.

But the thing is—he doesn't care. At all. For the first time in… Hell—forever, probably, he dares to hope.

He hopes.

''Hi,'' he says, with his most dazzling smile in place, ''my name is Sebastian.''

He hopes.

The boy smiles back. ''I'm Ciel,'' he says.

He hopes.

And the world—it feels perfect.


	28. Chapter 28: Grell x Madame Red

**Disclaimer:** Too tired to think of something clever to say. How about we just go for the good old ''I do not own the thing'' today?

 **Author's Note:** I've been meaning to write something like this for a long time.

 **Warnings:** Grell x Madam Red. Murder. He/Him pronouns for Grell (I personally headcanon them as gender fluid but... yknow, Victorian era England and all that.)

 **An Accident**

It's an accident, she doesn't mean to. But then she's covered in the girl's blood.

And the man—it looks like a man, but she can't be quite sure—is smiling at her. It's riveting.

''Um,'' she says. ''Can I—is there something… um.''

''My, my, aren't you a pretty thing,'' he coos.

Shivers run down her spine.

He moves closer. Kneels in the puddle of blood next to her. Lifts her chin up with two gloved fingers. ''Such beautiful artwork you have created,'' he whispers. It's almost reverent.

''I—thank you?'' she mumbles uncertainly.

He chuckles, throwing his head back leisurely. ''No need to thank me, _darling_. In fact, I should be the one thanking _you_. I haven't come across something so _beautiful_ in a long time.''

There's something fundamentally wrong about all this, it's glaringly obvious, even if her muddled brain can't quite grasp _what_. ''Murder isn't, it's not supposed to be _beautiful_ ,'' she says, not sure who, exactly, she's trying to convince.

''Now, now,'' the man—she still isn't sure—says, as if admonishing a small child. ''Murder is such an ugly word, isn't it? Certainly unfit to describe this masterpiece.''

''Masterpiece? I wouldn't—''

He shushes her by placing a finger on her lips. ''But I _would_ ,'' he says. ''And I am.'' His thumb moves to gingerly wipe at a small bit of blood on the corner of her lip.

Her throat goes dry. She swallows. She thinks she feels something in her stomach flip.

The man—not sure at all, but what does it matter—leans closer. His eyes are impossibly green. That's the last thing she notices before closing her own.

The kiss—it's like something falls into place, like something finally fills the gaping hole in her chest she's always thought she'd never get to live without. It's freeing, liberating, it's _perfect_.

''Um,'' she whispers as their lips part. ''I don't—''

''You do,'' he says, gesturing to the— _masterpiece_ , he'd called it. ''Of course you do.''

It's an accident, she doesn't mean to… the first time.

... ... ... ... ... ...

If you forgot there was a corpse next to them... good. That was the point.


	29. Chapter 29: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I own a pair of suede sandals, tattered copies of the _Harry Potter_ series that have been reread to death, and a pair of sheets with tulips on them, but, sadly, I do not own Kuro.

 **Author's Note:** Another exam over, another chapter posted! Just one more left, then I'm free to enjoy my summer!

 **Warnings:** Gratuitous innuendo galore! Dialogue heavy, tooth-rotting fluff, same AU as ch. 10 and 17 (I don't know where this fits exactly, I'm just writing the fluffiest things I can come up with, and making them gratuitously sexual and dialogue-based.)

 **Remind Me Why**

''Remind me again,'' Ciel says, causing Sebastian to pause his ministrations, ''why are we having sex?''

Sebastian critically regards the unclothed form of the boy sitting on his lap. ''Um,'' he says finally, after a great deal of deliberation, ''because we wanted to?''

''But we always—remember that time Claude and Alois called the cops when they thought I was screaming because you were _actually_ trying to strangle me?''

Sebastian rubs at the back of his head, face a shade redder than a moment before. ''Uh, yeah, it was kind of an awkward talk for me. 'No, officer, I wasn't trying to murder my boyfriend, just give him a mind-blowing orgasm.'''

Ciel snorts. ''That part had slipped my mind,'' he says between chuckles. ''I think that poor man was, what, sixty?''

''And very religious,'' Sebastian adds.

''Which is why, in retrospect, I think the play-by-play description of what was actually happening was a bit . . . _redundant_.''

''Yeah, we _really_ shouldn't have told him what we'd used the rope for, I think he was about to throw up near the end—but I didn't want a police officer to think I was a cold-blooded murderer or something!''

''Yeah, because sexual deviant is _so much better_ ,'' Ciel says, tone dripping with sarcasm.

''Said the man dating the sexual deviant.''

''Not my words actually, the officer's. And we're engaged, not dating. Dolt.''

''So. . .'' Sebastian starts, gesturing to the space between them, ''should we just . . . get back to, um, what we were doing before you decided a trip down memory lane was well-needed? 'Cause this is getting a bit ha—um, _difficult_ for me.''

''Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, um, go, go right ahea— _ah_! _Sebastian_!''

. . .

''That was fun, wasn't it?'' Sebastian asks, wrapping an arm around Ciel.

''Yeah, but I still think we have way too much sex.''

''Why is that necessarily a bad thing?''

''Well,'' Ciel says, snuggling closer to Sebastian. ''If you decide to actually kill me one of these days, our neighbors aren't going to call the cops.''

''Good thing I can't live without you then, Ciel.''

''. . .''

''Ouch, what was that for?!''

''You deserve to get hit if you say stuff like that.''

''Aw, look at you, you're blushing!''

Ciel grits his teeth. ''Do you want me to hit you again,'' he asks.

''Didn't we just establish how much I like it when you get rough with me?''

''That smirk of yours is unbearable.''

''Is it now?''

''Ye—mmph!''

'' . . .''

''Don't just jump me like that, Sebastian!''

''I would never do anything you didn't want me to.''

''Are you suggesting—?''

''No, I am not _suggesting_ anything, my beloved Ciel; I am _saying_. You, half of our neighbors, and a very hapless police officer, know very well that you are, quite frankly, _incapable_ of keeping your hands off me.''

''Oh, incapable, eh?''

''Yep, I'm just too irresistible.''

''That's true.''

''So irresistible that—wait, what did you just say?''

''Who's blushing now?''

''Brat.''

''You still love me, though.''

''That I do.''

''And I love you, too.''

''. . . ''

''Sebastian! Don't—we just got off the bed! Seriously, I just fixed the buttons on this shirt—ah, alright, alright. We're doing round two, I guess.''


	30. Chapter 30: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, midnight bouts of fanfic writing inspiration don't have any correlation to ownership.

 **Author's Note:** This was written 'cause I asked for prompts on tumblr, and someone said ''Prompt: Ciel has been acting more irritable towards his butler lately, and when the servant questions him about it, Ciel reveals that he got him something when he went into town with the other servants. (Kind of like "I was mean because I'm embarrassed kinda vibe? Idk)''

 **Warnings:** Mild suggestiveness, substance-less fluff, half of which was written while sleep deprived.

 **The Pocket Watch**

 _The young master is hiding something from me,_ Sebastian noted with a frown. The boy had been evasive all day after coming back from an impromptu shopping trip he hadn't even deigned to inform Sebastian of.

It was bad enough the young lord had _dawdled_ among London's filth without his protection, but refusing to even spare him a glance at the least? That was rather _displeasing_. Sebastian didn't particularly fancy feeling displeased.

''Young master,'' he said brusquely, adding water to the boy's bath.

Ciel looked up reluctantly. ''Yes,'' he murmured.

''Might I inquire why you were absent this afternoon?''

Ciel's shoulders tensed visibly. ''I took the servants on a shopping trip, I already told you,'' he said, gifting the butler with a glare before clutching his knees to his chest.

''If you'll pardon the intrusion, I would like to know what necessitated the aforementioned shopping trip,'' Sebastian said, smiling amiably.

''There were… things we needed.''

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. ''There were _things_ we needed,'' he repeated incredulously.

''Yes, _Sebastian_ , there were things we needed.''

''I see.'' Sebastian leaned down and began lathering the boy's hair.

''Ah, careful, that's too rough!'' Ciel complained.

Sebastian chuckled. ''I was under the impression the young master didn't particularly mind me being rough with him,'' he whispered against Ciel's ear.

Even with his face partially hidden as it was, the reddening of the boy's cheeks was quite visible. ''Foul, lecherous dog,'' he said, glaring at Sebastian. ''Just finish up and get me ready for bed.''

 **. . .**

Ciel was perched atop the bed, waiting patiently as Sebastian finished buttoning his nightshirt.

''Sebastian,'' he said, looking anywhere but the butler's face.

''Yes, my lord,'' came the usual response.

Ciel reached out uncertainly. He struggled to open the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a medium-sized rectangular box. ''I, I got you something, when we, when we went into town.''

''You needn't have bothered my—''

''Shut up,'' Ciel interrupted, ''let me finish. I got you something because—well, your last one broke and it could be argued that I was to blame, and—I hope it's okay. I never had to pick one before,'' he concluded by shoving the box hastily on his butler's chest.

Sebastian opened it to find a very finely crafted pocket watch inside. He gave a small laugh that, coming from anyone else, Ciel would've called fond. ''This was quite unnecessary, my lord.''

''I, well,'' Ciel said, no longer making even the smallest attempt to hide how flustered he felt. ''Your last one broke when Mey-Rin stepped on it and you were too busy trying to save me from the day's villain—''

A wry laugh interrupted Ciel's words.

''What,'' the boy demanded.

''Nothing at all,'' Sebastian said, ''do carry on, please.'' His shoulders seemed to be shaking slightly.

''Hmph,'' Ciel harrumphed. ''Anyway, is it to your liking?''

''It is very well made,'' Sebastian said. After a pause he added, ''But, young master, it was quite unnecessary.''

''I just, I wanted to do something—you really liked that pocket watch is all!''

''There is no need to get so riled up, my lord,'' Sebastian said, brushing a gloved hand against the boy's cheek.

Ciel fixed his eyes to the ground. ''It wasn't, I wasn't trying to, you do a lot for me and, well, I wanted to… compensate you in some way, I suppose.''

Sebastian smiled. ''You don't suppose a soul is compensation enough, my lord?'' he asked.

''A soul is part of the contract,'' Ciel said. ''This is because I wanted to.''

''I see,'' Sebastian said, for the second time that evening. This time it sounded quite different.

''Do you know, young master, why I seemed so fond of my prior pocket watch?''

''I always assumed it was because it aided your flair for the dramatic.''

For a moment, Sebastian's face looked as if he'd swallowed something _particularly_ sour. ''Yes, well, that would be an incorrect assumption,'' he said. ''The true reason was because you were the one who'd given it to me.''

A soft sound of surprise escaped Ciel's lips. ''I see,'' was all he said.

''And while purchasing a replacement was quite thoughtful of you, I've no need for _compensation_ of any sort as long as my young master allows me to remain by his side.''

Ciel grinned. ''I assume you don't plan to stay, then?'' he asked. ''Since you've no need for further compensation and all that…''

Sebastian blew out the candelabra.


	31. Chapter 31: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I just write the fanfic, dude.

 **Author's Note:** Another tumblr prompt. The request was, ''Ciel gets an injury that isn't REALLY all that bad but he exaggerates it in order to get out of some work and socializing for a few days. Of course Sebastian catches on.'' I didn't really comply, but this was fun to write. I really enjoyed experimenting with the characterizations!

 **Warnings:** Modern AU. I tried, and probably failed, because I'm not British, to make it sound British. Human!Sebastian. Also, _very mild_ inappropriate language.

 **On Rainy Days**

Sebastian is having an especially lovely dream about the white cat with the unbelievably soft fur that always greets him on the house steps when he is abruptly awoken by a demanding, and unfortunately _loud_ , ten year old.

Ciel is small for his age, which, considering the amount of sweets the boy blackmails out of him on a daily basis, is rather surprising, but that fact doesn't do much to make Sebastian enjoy waking up to his chest being crushed under the boy's weight.

''Ciel,'' he says, blinking blearily, ''what's the matter? Did Mey-Rin set the towels on fire again?''

''Sebastian,'' the boy wails, moving in way that makes Sebastian worry some of his bones might not escape this as _un_ broken as he'd prefer them to. ''You promised you'd take me to the park today.''

Sebastian's gaze drifts to the calendar hanging next to the door opposite his bed. A bright red circle surrounds today's date, with the words ''take Ciel to the park'' scrawled hastily underneath. _Shite_ , he thinks.

Ciel, observant little thing that he is, eyes Sebastian suspiciously. ''You didn't forget, did you?'' he asks.

Sebastian immediately slaps on the cheeriest smile he can muster. ''Forget? Why, of course not,'' he says, ruffling Ciel's hair as he picks him and sets him on the ground. He pushes the covers off, putting a pair of slippers on before picking the boy up anew and taking him into the kitchen. ''But let's get you some breakfast first.''

''I want cereal,'' Ciel proclaims, holding on tightly—a bit _too_ tightly— to Sebastian's neck.

''Sure thing, little one,'' Sebastian says, putting the boy down on a stool and watching as he places his elbows atop the kitchen counter, small feet dangling in thin air as he tries to reach the cereal box all the way on the other side of it. It makes for an endearing sight. The half-formed smile on his face wilts the moment he remembers, however. _Shite_ , he thinks again.

After making sure Ciel is well and truly focused on his meal, Sebastian rushes to grab his phone. ''Mey-Rin,'' he says, frantically running a hand through his sleep-mused locks. ''Where are you?''

''Mister Sebastian,'' the maid asks, voice shaky and uncertain. ''You gave me the day off, remember? Said you were going to spend the day at the park with Ciel, you did.''

 _Shite_ , Sebastian thinks, for the third time that morning. He makes sure to lower his voice to an almost inaudible whisper before continuing. ''I forgot, Mey-Rin,'' he says, with the guilt of a man who knows he has committed an unabsolvable sin.

''B-but, but,'' Mey-Rin stutters, suddenly just as uneasy as her contractor, ''Ciel—it's, he'll—he'll be crushed.''

''I _know_ ,'' Sebastian says, fighting the urge to sigh.

''Why don't you just take him, Mister Sebastian? I mean, it's too late now. If you don't, he will... Oh the _poor_ thing...''

Sebastian can picture Mey-Rin theatrically clutching her heart as she speaks. The image doesn't make it any easier for him. ''But I haven't prepared anything. Won't he be more disappointed if he finds out?''

''Miss Rachel always took him.''

''But... Mey-Rin... the cake—''

''Take him, Mister Sebastian. He misses her. It helps him.''

With a sigh of resigned agreement, Sebastian ends the call.

He walks back into the kitchen to find Ciel right where he'd left him, chocolate milk staining the sides of his mouth. A fond smile spreads across his features. ''Little one,'' he calls, leaning on the doorway, ''finish up. We need to get going.''

The boy turns around, beaming at him. He's rushing out the door before Sebastian can even make sense of what happens. ''Don't forget to wash up properly,'' he calls after the small thing.

. . .

It's raining dreadfully, and Ciel insists on stepping into every puddle that catches his sight, gifting Sebastian with glares that demonstrate his immense displeasure rather artfully—the boy always has had a penchant for the dramatic, Sebastian wonders where he gets it from sometimes—whenever the other tries to gently direct him away from them.

 _Oh well,_ Sebastian thinks, resigned _, I'll just have to get him new boots... and new pants, and a new raincoat, and—no, Ciel, not the_ _ **lake**_ _._ He brings a hand up to his forehead, _And I mustn't forget to pick up some painkillers at the pharmacy as well._

Fortunately, Sebastian manages to disabuse the boy of any desire for a morning swim.

When they arrive, they find the park almost completely empty. It is to be expected, no one in their right mind would go anywhere in this weather, and Sebastian is starting to severely doubt his parenting skills—surely there _must've_ been something about setting boundaries in one of those books he'd picked up all those years ago—but then Ciel is smiling, free and wholly sincere, and Sebastian can't help the grin that tugs at the corner of his own lip.

''Do you remember when we first met?'' he asks the boy, pulling him into a small, covered alcove in front of a closed coffee shop. The storm is getting worse by the second.

Ciel looks up at him curiously. ''Of course I do,'' he says, as if affronted by the sheer _implication_ that he could ever forget.

''It was raining then too, wasn't it?''

''Yup.''

''I was late for work, taking a shortcut through the park, when, to my astonishment, this small thing bumped into me,'' Sebastian recounts, smiling all the while.

''I wasn't _that_ small,'' Ciel protests, nose scrunched up.

''Oh, but you were. Tiny little thing, I almost didn't spot you,'' he counters, pinching Ciel's cheek. ''Then your mother rushed over, started lecturing me about being more cautious, and you, even though you were perfectly fine—you were a devious thing—started complaining about your ankle. Even struck your tongue out at me when she turned her back.''

''I didn't really like you at first,'' Ciel admits, as if confessing a shameful secret.

Sebastian chuckles. ''It's okay little one, you like me now, don't you?''

''Yes,'' Ciel says, blushing, eyes focused on the ground. ''I lo-love you now.''

Sebastian feels his eyes start to water. He knows, of course, has known since the first time Ciel had clutched his sleeve and begged him for a bedtime story, that night after Rachel's accident, but hearing Ciel say it always makes something inside him ache with an uncontainable sort of joy.

''I love you too, little one. Very much,'' Sebastian says, kneeling down and enveloping the boy in a suffocating hug.

''Sebastian?''

''Yes, Ciel?''

''I miss mum a lot,'' Ciel says, voice choked up from unshed tears. ''I miss the cakes she used to make for us when we went to the park, I miss the way she'd smile, I miss _her_.'' He tries to discretely wipe his eyes on the corner of his jumper.

Sebastian looks at the boy. ''I miss her too,'' he says, voice barely higher than a whisper, as if he can't bare the truth spoken any louder. ''Do you want to go visit her...'' Even after four years, he still can't bring himself to say the word grave.

''No,'' Ciel says. ''But—Sebastian, you won't, you're not leaving me too, are you?''

''Never. Not in a million years.''

''Good,'' Ciel says, with the sort of finality one uses when terribly overwhelmed.

Sensing the boy's discomfort, Sebastian smiles—it is, perhaps, a bit more watery than he'd have liked, but it'll do. ''Do you want to go annoy Mey-Rin on her day off?'' he asks. ''We could even bake some cake together. What do you think, little one?''

Ciel responds with a watery smile of his own, and, clasping Sebastian's hand tightly, pulls him along.

''Oh, would you look at that,'' Sebastian notes cheerily, squeezing Ciel's hand as if to remind him of his promise once more, ''the rain stopped.''


	32. Chapter 32: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Me no owney... blah... blah... blah.

 **Author's Note:** Here, have this dreadful, senseless thing I wrote months ago.

 **Warnings** **:** Me, trying to analyse Ciel's character and how losing his demon might affect him. Consequently, me failing at properly doing so.

 **Darkness**

Ciel missed the darkness. It was bright now, much too bright. The room smelled like flowers and Lizzy's favorite perfume. It was covered in white, but in spite of all this; even if it had been ten years since the last time the halls of his manor had living sin walking through them, sometimes Ciel thought he could still feel it, thought he could still feel _him_. And that wasn't what scared him; it's how much he wanted it to be true that did.

Happiness came in copious amounts now; the smiles, the blonde curls and frilly dresses that surrounded him made it much too easy to be happy. But as time passed Ciel found that happiness didn't much agree with him. He kissed his daughter goodnight and his mind wandered back to the time he'd thought it impossible to ever see the day he'd be a father.

Ciel liked the darkness, even. He no longer spent as much time enshrouded by it as he used to when it walked by his side, but on those rare nights when a particularly demanding task assigned to him by his dear queen sent him rummaging through London's filth a strange comfort found its way deep into his core. For he was Ciel Phantomhive, the Queen's Guard Dog, and darkness would always be his one true home.

So, it is many years later, when his wife's hair are no longer bound in pigtails, when she's dressed in black and a young woman with blue eyes and black hair holds her hand as she wipes tears of her own, that Ciel Phantomhive feels at home again. For in death, his beloved darkness embraces him again, and this time it doesn't do anything as foolish as letting him go, be it out of love or whatever other _foolishness_ had pushed it— _him_ , to leave his side all those years ago.

* * *

 _ **P.S**_ If anyone wants request a drabble, I'd be delighted to write it for you. And if anyone wants to fangirl over Kuroshitsuji with me, my tumblr username is **_annywanderingintp._** (with dashes in-between ** _Anny, Wandering_** and ** _INTP_** )


	33. Chapter 33: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Main proof I'm not the author of Kuro: 1. Ciel x Sieglinde isn't canon. 2. The 2CT is. 3. Soma is not currently back in India, reminiscing about the fun times they had with Ciel along with Agni.

 **Author's Note:** Written for the send me a sentence and I'll write the next five thing on tumblr. Of course, my asker ended up with a 400 word drabble instead, because I couldn't tell self-restraint if it slapped me in the face.

 **Warnings:** Sex in the kitchens, basically.

 **Whipped Cream**

All Sebastian wanted to know was who, in the sweet name of Hell, had let his master into the kitchen.

He had, apparently, greatly underestimated the average human's foolishness, or their proclivity for mayhem, perhaps. The kitchen was in shambles; how whipped cream had gotten on the chandelier he couldn't fathom, but, if he were being honest with himself, neither did he have any desire to.

''Young Master,'' he chastised, the fires of Hell blazing in his irises as he spoke, ''why are you _licking_ the insides of a bowl?''

The boy almost jumped out of his skin at the first sound of his butler's stern voice, and the aforementioned bowl hit the ground with an ominous thud. ''Se—Sebastian,'' he shouted, a dollop of cream sticking to the tip of his nose, ''what are you doing here?''

''That, young master, is my question to you,'' Sebastian said, approaching his charge with even, determined steps until he had him pinned against the wall.

Ciel gulped. ''I wanted a snack,'' he said, not nearly as unaffected by the way Sebastian was looking at him as he'd have liked.

''And I assume there was an incurable ailment of some sort preventing you from asking me to retrieve something from the kitchens _for_ you?''

''That is, I mean—err,'' Ciel floundered, flustered beyond measure. He could feel Sebastian's breath tickling his skin, the other was so close, and, even in the semi-terrified state he was currently in, he _couldn't_ help but—no, now was _not_ the time for such thoughts!

Sebastian noticed how the boy's cheeks reddened. ''And what could you possibly be thinking of, _my lord_ ,'' he teased, leaning in to remove the still-present smudge of whipped cream from the boy's nose. Using his tongue was, maybe, not the most dignified thing he could have done, but it produced the desired effect nonetheless.

Ciel stilled completely, as tense as a bowstring. He felt Sebastian's tongue lap, lick and — _ah_. It moved lower, lower, lower…

…

''You know,'' Ciel said afterwards, convinced he'd never again be able to look at a bowl of whipped cream without blushing, ''if this is how you intend to punish me each time, I should help myself to a snack more often.''

Sebastian only chuckled, privately agreeing that yes, if his little lord's forays into the kitchen would always have such enjoyable consequences, then he would not be particularly averse to them, either.


	34. Chapter 34: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** Not owning it is not going to stop me from shipping SebaCiel until the day I have to take a ride on Charon's boat **.** (pretentious Greek mythology reference is pretentious :P)

 **Author's Note:** A week-long vacation, a full day of trying, 11 milk-dunked Oreos, a pathetic attempt at taking a nap, and a truly haphazard hunt for a hair tie later, and this is all I have. I'm sorry. Really, I am.

 **Warnings:** Sexual suggestiveness. Use of the word gateau instead of cake purely for pretentiousness's sake.

 **Something Sweet**

''Sebastian,'' Ciel says, ''I want something sweet.''

''Perhaps the young master would like a slice of the Chocolate gateau I've prepared after he finishes his supper?'' Sebastian asks.

Ciel pouts, looking every bit like a typical thirteen-year-old boy. ''No,'' he says, ''I want something sweet now.''

''I fear I cannot allow you to ruin your appetite, young master.''

''Don't worry, Sebastian,'' Ciel says, the truly wicked smile spreading across his face contrasting significantly with his angelic tone of voice, '' _I_ won't be the one ruining my appetite. Now, come here,'' he beckons with a curl of his dainty finger.

When Sebastian comes to halt right in front of his desk, Ciel scowls. ''Lean down, you ludicrously tall thing!''

With a slight curl of his lip, the butler obliges him. ''Yes, my lord?''

Ciel gets up, standing on the very tip of his toes to reach Sebastian's face. ''Won't you give me something sweet, Sebastian? I am having quite the craving right now,'' he whispers. Smiling, he plants a light, teasing kiss right on his butler's lips.

 _Oh,_ Sebastian thinks with a chuckle, _the young master is experiencing a different kind of hunger_ … He deepens the kiss, claiming his little lord's mouth fully. ''What kind of butler would I be if I couldn't accomplish that much?'' he says, shamelessly running his tongue along the boy's kiss-reddened lips.

''A terribly inadequate one, I'd say,'' Ciel answers as their lips part, blushing even as he works to unbutton the other's coat.

''Oh dear, we can't have that, now can we,'' Sebastian teases, hot breath tickling the fine hair near Ciel's earlobe.

A shiver runs down the boy's spine. ''Sebastian,'' he says. He'd meant for it to be an admonishment, but his butler's name leaves his lips sounding more like a needy plea than anything else.

''Yes, my lord,'' the butler answers, claiming the boy's lips once more.

And Ciel gives a knowing little smile, letting himself melt into the kiss. _Victory tastes rather sweet,_ he muses. Of course, he's always liked sweet things.


	35. Chapter 35: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own it.

 **Author's Note:** I don't have anything to say, for once...

 **Warnings:** Does kissing need a warning?

 **Just a Taste**

He has his first kiss in the rose garden.

''Tell me, Sebastian,'' he asks, doing his best to sound as nonchalant about it as possible, ''how will I die?''

The demon smiles that placid smile of his (the only lie he's ever allowed to tell) and, instead of answering, tilts Ciel's chin upwards with two gloved fingers. ''Like this,'' he whispers, gaze flashing red, before he presses their lips together in a perfect facsimile (mockery) of a lover's kiss.

Ciel tries to fight it, to fight _him_ , but he's still young and naive and eager, eager, eager…

His hands end up tangling in Sebastian's hair, pulling him closer, a silent plea for more, for him not to stop, for him to never stop, for him to never ever let go, because Ciel isn't sure, even after having survived the vilest cruelties this earth has to offer, that he could survive it. Isn't sure he _wants_ to.

He has his first kiss in the rose garden, and that day, for the first time ever since he reached out into the darkness begging for salvation, he doesn't fear death. He craves it.


	36. Chapter 36: Platonic Relationship

**Disclaimer:** (to the tune of ''You Don't Own Me'') I don't own it.

 **Author's note:** I got a tumblr request to write about the twins meeting after the fire. ''Could you write something about our!Ciel and real!Ciel's meeting after not seeing each other for 4 years after the fire, with real!Ciel as a less yandere brother?'' was what my requester asked for.

 **Warnings:** Spoilers if you're not caught up with the last couple of manga chapters. Also, might give you feels.

 **Some Things _Can_ Be Regained**

''I've missed you,'' he says, and the words come out not quite right, sounding more like an accusation than anything else. It doesn't make them any less true.

''I know,'' the other responds, eyes fixed to the ground. ''I know, I—I've missed you too.''

A snort, then, ''Is this the part where we kiss and make up?''

The corners of the other's lips curl bitterly upwards. ''No,'' he says, ''I don't think so. You died because of me.''

The truth, once spoken, weighs heavy on them. They know it can't be fixed, something once lost can never be regained after all, but he's here, he's back, he's standing less than three inches away, and they miss each other. So much it hurts.

''No,'' he says, voice filled with pure determination, ''I died because of _them_.''

''I let you die, then.''

Silence. Silence so loud it's almost deafening.

His mouth twists into something unpleasant. ''That you did,'' he says finally.

''I'm –sorry. If it means anything, I truly am sorry.'' The other's gaze remains downcast.

''Look at me.''

''I can't.''

''Look at me!''

Words have never before hurt this much. _Look at me._ Such a simple sentence, such a simple act. All he has to do is lift his head and open his eyes. And then he'd see. The consequences of his sins, the damage he's caused. He'd see them all.

He'd see his brother again.

''I can't,'' he repeats. His eyes sting with unshed tears. ''I _can't_. I can't, I'm sorry. I'm—'' The rest of his words get drowned out by sobs. For the first time in years, he cries. He sheds the tears he didn't shed when he saw his brother's corpse sitting lifeless atop a bloodstained altar; he sheds the tears he didn't shed when he saw his parents' names engraved in cold slabs of marble; he sheds the tears he didn't shed the day he brought a red dress inside the church. ''I'm sorry,'' he wails, the words pitifully insufficient.

''Stop.''

A pair of spindly arms wrap tightly around the crying child. He buries his face in the nape of his brother's neck. ''I'm sorry.''

''Stop. It's all right. You don't have to carry this all on your own now. I'm here, and I'm never leaving your side again.'' It's all he can offer right now.

He hopes it will be enough.

A final sob, a sniffle, a tightening of arms around his neck, then, ''I know. I missed you.''

''I missed you too.''


	37. Chapter 37: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer:** I can't even find officially translated copies of the manga.

 **Author's Note:** Despite the lack of originality behind the concept, I really enjoy the idea of this kind of intimacy between them. I hope you do too. :)

 **Warnings:** Post-coital fluff. Perhaps mildly OOC.

 **Forever**

Ciel is splayed atop his butler's chest, his small form covered only by a thin cotton sheet. Sebastian's hands are trailing idle patterns along the creamy expanse of the boy's exposed back, and it feels so good that he is almost tempted into a repeat of the night's activities. However… ''Stop that, Sebastian,'' he says, his tone almost playfully childlike, ''I'm too tired.''

The demon chuckles, his hot breath stirring the fine hair near Ciel's earlobe. ''Is that so,'' he asks, ''and whatever has the young master in such a state?''

Ciel reaches up, giving a harsh tug to the demon's hair. ''You do,'' he says with a wicked little smile.

Sebastian trails a hand along Ciel's neck, admiring the lovely bruises that have bloomed there as he gently prods at them. ''If I have caused the young master discomfort, then I deeply apologise,'' he says, in a voice that could be described as nothing short of angelic.

Ciel snorts. ''I'd say you rather enjoyed being the cause of my _discomfort._ '' Recently-acquired memories of Sebastian growling as he bites into the tender juncture where his neck and shoulder meet run through Ciel's mind, and he can no longer contain his laughter. ''In fact,'' he says, gesturing to the rest of the bruises covering his body, ''I'd say you enjoyed it a bit too much.''

''Ah, well, perhaps I find the young master's body just as appealing as he finds his sweets, and simply cannot contain myself.'' Sebastian smiles, the kind of smile that makes him seem oddly human, and brushes Ciel's hair away from the boy's face, staring directly into his marred eye. ''You are quite the tempting delicacy, young master.''

Ciel blushes, despite himself. ''And what happens after you finish your supper,'' he asks.

Something close to genuine surprise flickers through the demon's eyes. ''Nothing,'' he says. ''You are mine and I am yours, young master, and so it shall remain. Forever.''

Ciel's eyes widen, and he reaches upwards, pressing his lips to Sebastian's with renewed ardor. ''Stupid demon,'' he murmurs against the other's lips. ''Stupid, stupid, stupid demon,'' he repeats between more fervent kisses.

Sebastian hears the words hidden behind the shallow insult, and the corners of his lips curl into a knowing little smile.


	38. Chapter 38: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer** : Not mine. I didn't even have time to read the last chapter until a week ago.

 **Author's Note** : I wrote a thing. And am posting it. Wow. (Ok, it's 300 words and really self-indulgent, but hey, progress is progress.)

 **Warnings** : Ciel isn't really in a good emotional state.

 **Supposed To**

It's their last night together.

That's—well, that's _why_ it starts, really.

It's not how it starts, though. Not really.

Ciel figures it doesn't matter in the end. He's been thoroughly humiliated enough times for one more not to make a difference. And Sebastian—Sebastian makes the poison in his lungs smell sweet. He makes Ciel's heart speed up in ways that make him forget about the crushing pain that resides there, and—and, well, he _likes_ being too focused on the heat between his thighs and the way Sebastian's lips move against his own to care about anything else.

A gasp, a pull, a moan. That's how it usually goes. That's how Ciel forgets.

Tonight it's different. Tonight is difficult. He doesn't like it.

Sebastian is not supposed to make the world difficult for him. Sebastian is supposed to make it easy. Sebastian is supposed to help him _forget_.

''You really—ah, you really could go a bit faster,'' he says, all the while ignoring the pathetically persistent urge to hug the man carefully unbuttoning his shirt and beg him to never leave.

Sebastian makes the world seem easy. Maybe that's why it hurts to think of it as permanent. Of his departure as irreversible.

''I want to enjoy this,'' the butler says, and it's not—not what it _should_ be. Not what Ciel expects it to be, at least. And the difference is long lost to him.

The ensuing sex is… oddly anticlimactic, all things considered. _It was never about that,_ a cruel voice inside Ciel's head whispers.

…

He wakes up alone the next morning. There's an elegantly signed card accompanying his usual breakfast tray.

Ciel opens it, and, no, the world doesn't stop for a second. His heart does, though.

Sebastian's goodbye is perfectly proper.

That—that _fucking_ _hurts_.

…

Sebastian wasn't supposed to hurt him.


	39. Chapter 39: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer** : Not mine. Never was and (most likely) never will be.

 **Author's Note** : Finally finished this! Could be better, but it's been in my drafts ever since before I left for holidays and I missed posting something in this fandom. Here's my belated New Year's gift; hope you like it!

 **Warnings** : Modern Day AU. Vaguely holiday themed (in that there are minor references to new year's). Mild angst for the sake of the fluff.

 **Despite That**

It starts on an unusually warm September day.

Ciel falls, clumsily tripping over uneven cobblestone. He only gets a second to hate himself for it before Sebastian catches him. It all just sort of… _happens_ after that.

It's really _not_ how he thought falling in love would feel like, but somewhere—probably between Sebastian's warm smiles, unjustifiably terrible puns, and discovering how soft his leather jackets feel when he's wearing them—Ciel starts to think that, just this once, he won't try to run from it just because he thinks he should. Just because it makes him happy.

Which is, of course, the point when it all goes _straight to Hell._

They're talking, rambling about nothing and everything, about life and lilies and other things starting with an l that neither feels quite comfortable actually _saying,_ their fingers tightly woven together—something that, oddly enough, no longer makes Ciel sneer—when, for reasons beyond Ciel's comprehension, Sebastian looks at him and, no, the world doesn't stop turning, not really, but Ciel's heart twists and tightens in his chest, and it shouldn't bother him, because Sebastian has seen him cry and scream and shout, has seen the insides of his soul, has seen all that he is and all the he could ever be, and he's still here, looking at him like he's the reason the sun shines each day.

So yeah, it shouldn't bother him, but maybe that's why it does.

Ciel swallows. ''Don't look at me like that,'' he says, voice wavering between things he can't quite figure out, but that hurt him anyway.

Sebastian's surprise is clear. ''Like what,'' he asks, as if he hadn't even noticed he was doing it. Typical.

''Like,'' Ciel mumbles, only to stop himself a second later. ''Like,'' he repeats, ''like I'm worthy of being looked at that way.''

''That's… I'm sorry?''

''No, you—you don't have to be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry _for_. Just don't do it again, please.''

The _please_ is telling. Sebastian isn't very good at doing the right thing at the right time, though. So.

…

Ciel knows it. Has known it since day three of knowing Sebastian, really, because knowing—that's what he's good at. It's his job to know. So, when Valentine's Day comes with a bouquet of his favorite roses, and a box of chocolates that is _not at all extremely hard to find and ridiculously expensive_ , of course Ciel _knows_ it won't end well.

He doesn't, however, expect it to end with Sebastian gently cupping his chin and whispering ''I love you,'' like it's not utterly senseless. Like he's worthy of it.

…

The ensuing break up is—anticlimactic, at best.

Sebastian looks at him with what Ciel had taken to calling his ''wounded puppy'' look, and asks him why. Tells him it doesn't matter. Tells him to please not do this. Tells him that he needs him.

It reminds Ciel of those sappy movies his mother would watch while eating her weight in ice-cream after his dad left. That thought makes it easier to slam the door in Sebastian's face and pretend something inside him didn't just irreparably shatter.

…

He doesn't eat much for a while. Doesn't leave the house either. Lizzie has to practically break his lock and force-feed him some of his favorite blueberry cheesecake (which Ciel only eats because she threatens to make him watch reality shows with her if he doesn't).

"You loved him, didn't you?" she asks as she fluffs the pillows on his bed, tone perfectly nonchalant.

"I—," Ciel freezes. Sighs. "Yes, I guess I did," he says.

…

Slowly, he remembers how to forget. Slowly, the world starts making sense again. And, (slowly, of course) he becomes _a convincing lie_ himself again.

It's okay, for a while.

Really, it is.

…

And then—it kinda isn't.

…

He doesn't see Sebastian again until Sieglinde's New Year party. At his frown she says, "You two need to pull yourselves together. He's—he still misses you, Ciel."

Ciel responds with a scornful, "Have you two been chatting over peppermint lattes on the weekends or something?"

She punches Ciel in the arm and shoves him Sebastian's way instead of gracing him with an answer.

And Ciel, he doesn't expect it to _actually work out_ but—but he grabs a flute of champagne and mumbles an awkward "Hi, how are you?" anyway.

Sebastian responds with an equally awkward, and not quite genuine, "Good. I'm good."

…

They, to the surprise of… no one but themselves, honestly, end up making out. Later on, Sieglinde and Lizzie will swear up and down they have no idea how that mistletoe ended up right on top of where they were standing. Really, not even a clue.

…

It shouldn't work out. By all logic, it shouldn't.

Sieglinde and Lizzie both make toasts at the wedding, despite that.


	40. Chapter 40: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer** : "Not mine," she said at one in the morning, posting the fanfic she'd written in the spur of the moment (and by moment, we mean sleepless night).

 **Author's Note** : Almost forgot how to do this. :D I'm actually quite proud of this, all things considered.

 **Warnings** : Implications. All sorts of those.

 **Lies We Tell**

The world feels like a lie, sometimes. All hard lines and set rules and rigid, unappealing morals. Ciel doesn't quite get how to make sense of it. Of this pretty thing wrapped with velvety bows and served to him on his family's finest dinnerware. He doesn't quite get how it can be rotten on the inside.

But, come his 10th birthday, he knows for sure it is.

Which is why Sebastian is a welcome relief from it all. A soul for service. Fairly straightforward as a bargain. No hipocrisy. And only the death he chose.

Ciel likes this. Likes the power that comes with it.

But, when the mattress curves under Sebastian's weight and the air feels colder all of a sudden, Ciel doesn't like the way the thing in his chest speeds up, the way it tightens and twists and makes, _makes_ his mind run where it shouldn't. Where it can't.

"Stop it," he absolutely-does-not-plead, because this power belongs to _him_. It does, even as this thing which does not obey to him pushes further, prying sinister fingers into the barely-mended cracks that run along his soul. It belongs to him, even as he watches it crumble beneath him.

This, after all, is the death he chose. And, well, if he didn't realise it would last a lifetime, who could possibly blame him?

At least the devil doesn't lie.


	41. Chapter 41: SebaCiel

**Disclaimer** : Not mine, but I love playing with it.

 **Author's Note** : IDEK what this is.

 **Warnings** : Serial Killer AU. Deliberately vague.

 **Pain**

Pain is a familiar relief.

And yet…

And yet, this wasn't _quite_ the kind of pain he craved.

…

It starts… somewhere along the blurry mess Ciel gracefully chooses to refer to as life.

It doesn't end. Not soon enough.

…

He'd never craved anything more than a victory. Than the thrill of being right. Then Sebastian showed up.

"I love you," Ciel had whispered, and he hadn't meant it, of course he hadn't. He never did. But… he didn't win. He didn't see a hopeful glimmer in Sebastian's gaze. He didn't feel his own heartbeat speed up with the thrill of another conquest. He didn't… he lost.

…

"That's great," Sebastian had said. "I… am not sure yet. I don't you should say that kind of stuff if you don't mean it."

Ciel had wanted nothing more than to drain the life out of him. To wrap his hands around Sebastian's pale throat and squeeze until no life remained. How dare he deny him? How dare he?

…

He doesn't even know what he's mad about a while later. When the hollowness in his chest becomes normal, when he no longer feels the bitter sting of blood-red rose thorns, it's okay.

Almost. Almost okay.

…

The moon shines bright and Sebastian's blood drips on rough, dirt-covered cobblestone.

Ciel feels better now.


	42. Chapter 42: General

**Disclaimer** : Das ist nicht mein.

 **Author's** **Note** : Very short, but I'm in love with the concept, and I think I did a good job with it.

Warnings: Minimalistic. 2CT-ish. Probably too vague.

 **Run**

"Run," a voice whispers.

You follow it. There's nothing better to do, after all.

…

 _Ciel loves him. It's enough to stay sane._

…

You run. You run and you think. Of blood. And pain. And the way it all drips and mixes with the filth of the earth.

…dirt to dirt, they said. Maybe it was even truer than they thought.

…

 _He misses him now. When the guilt subsides enough to let him._

…

You think. You think and you wonder if it was all a lie. Your chest aches. You try to forget.

Blood spills.

You want to stop. Your lungs ache. You keep running.

…

 _He almost regrets it, sometimes. Then he's reminded of the looming shadow by his side._

…

"Run," a voice whispers.

You follow it.

There's nothing else you can do, after all.


End file.
